


like the moon chases the sun

by boarsnsmores



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A lot of Profanity, Angst, Character Death, F/F, Heroes and Villains AU, Major Character Undeath, Shenanigans, a lot of people are officially Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 42,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8767270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boarsnsmores/pseuds/boarsnsmores
Summary: Mulan pinches the bridge of her nose, closes her eyes, and attempts to tamp down her- is it frustration? Bewilderment? Something along those lines. “Emma.” She begins slowly, willing herself to breathe, “When I told you not to get involved with magic, I did not mean ‘Emma, get involved with magic, use it to combat other forces of magic while wielding a sword of legend, and then overthrow a monarchy’.”Emma gives her a flippant shrug, “These things happen.”(an AU of the Heroes & Villains AU inspired by the Russian fairy tale, "Tsarevitch Ivan, the Firebird and the Gray Wolf" featuring ominous prophecies, a myriad of collapsing architectural structures, and inexplicably, possibly a ficus.)





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeartOfAmethyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfAmethyst/gifts).



> I always wanted more of Bandit!Regina from the Heroes & Villains AU, so here we are.
> 
> This was supposed to be a straight retelling of the fairy tale, but that became kind of weird, so then it became 'inspired by' and then the Brothers Grimms' "The Golden Bird" made its way into there too and honestly at this point I don't even know.
> 
> As always, I haven't actually kept up since S4, so you should let me know if something veers too far into implausibility.

The thing is, chasing the truth’s about as easy as catching the falling sun or the rising moon and only slightly less impossible. Truths, they have a tendency to keep lies as bedfellows. Together, they’re barnacles on a well-traveled ship, so clustered and numerous that they become indistinguishable from each other.

(Sticky things, barnacles – there’s no finding a barnacle without its ship.)

And so to find the truth, one must find the tale it travels with first. To that end, there’s no better place to find the truth than the taverns.

Of course, there’s also no better place to find the lies, but that’s another matter.

Too many tales nestle in the taverns, stories spoken free that worm their way into the rafters and kegs to make their homes. Sometimes, the stories are all the same – wandering wayward heroes, wandering wayward cows, the rare wandering wayward cow turned wandering wayward hero. They sulk in the whispers of the tavern, creaking floors and groaning tables. These are as true as they are common – small heroes for small lives.

(It makes the occasional legend a little truer for the telling. You must believe a small lie before you can believe the big ones.)

They tell of a bandit, who rides through the Enchanted Forest atop a horse dark of the moonless night. That she rides with her love beside her and the company of merry women behind her. That she stole the Firebird at her back, the Wolf to her left, and the horse golden with the sun that her love now rides. That she’s stolen from the Crown, from Gods, dragons, witches, and even Death, once, if the stories to be believed.

They say to be careful of this one – she’ll steal your purse and your heart in one motion and the wink of an eye for good measure.

Of course, her love'll pluck your purse right out of her fingers and return it back to you, but it's the principle of the matter. You’ll have also lost your heart and there’s no returning that.

"Regina!" she'll chide, "Stop showing off!"

And Regina will carelessly shrug and tell her, "Well then maybe they should keep a better eye on their things, Em-ma." Just like that.

Behind them, their ragtag accomplices will filter in. Each are notorious for their adventures throughout the Forest, and each adventure is more outlandish than the last. When questioned and badgered, they'll cock a grin and tell an even more absurd version of what happened.

(But perhaps more true - one can never tell with these kinds of stories.)

"Sorry," Emma will say, smiling in a way that tells you she's in no way sorry at all, "You know how she is."

This is true as well – for who doesn’t know of the Merry Women, whose lives are so implausible that they must also be true? Who'll steal from the rich and give to the poor, but who'll also empty out half the ale and pilfer the good silverware come the next morning.

(One of their lot will leave a pouch of gold though, always more than enough to cover the cost of whatever they’ve taken.)

No one will know where they're riding to next, only that they're off to embark on another grand adventure and to right what injustices they can along the way.

Or so the stories go.

Before all this though, before books and ballads and stories turned legends, once upon a time, there was just a girl whose mother named her after her own ambitions.

Regina learns kindness and goodness from her father, who speaks to her in a language forgotten in these lands, a secret just for the two of them. He teaches her about happiness and love of the Truest kind when he whispers her bedtime stories. She believes them all and dreams of a happily ever after for herself and her father.

Regina learns from her mother too, but nothing good.

She learns to ride and falls in love with the feel of earth solid beneath her and the freedom that rides on the winds. In time, she falls in love with the stable boy her family employs. It is love of the Truest kind. This she knows as surely as she knows the moon chases the sun.

(She will whisper this to him, and Daniel will whisper back, “like the sun chases the moon.”)

But Regina saves a princess, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as her mother's window frame. For this Daniel dies and when Regina kisses him, he does not wake.

(Some truths are stickier than others)

The king summons Regina to the palace to reward her and her mother follows her to ensure she takes it. When they arrive the king asks-

And here, the stories differ. In one world, the king asks Regina to be his bride and her mother accepts. In another, the king asks her mother instead and she accepts then too. In this one, he sees a girl too young to marry and a woman too clever to give the opportunity. In this world, he asks Regina to be his daughter's governess instead and, like in all other worlds, her mother accepts.

The king had been right to see the shrewdness in the mother's eyes, but not enough to stop her schemes. Perhaps in another world, Snow White would have learned kindness and goodness from Regina, who would have also taught her to always chase after happiness and love that was True.

Instead, Snow White learns to covet power, to find satisfaction in a world bowed at her feet. She learns the kind of magic that weighs heavy in the heart and then when such a weight becomes cumbersome, tears her own heart out.

It is little wonder then, that she and Prince James fall in love, in as much love as people like them could fall into anyway. They are to be married. Together, their wealth and armies could devastate the entire forest if they wished. But Regina, who has not learned deceit and cunning as well as her mother would have liked, tells a secret she promised to keep.

And Prince James dies.

And here, the story truly begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The length of this fic becomes funnier when you realize that there was a point in time when I was legitimately afraid I didn't have enough content to hit 10k.


	2. chapter i. sunset

“Regina?” Henry calls out to the garden. He hasn’t seen Regina since the messengers returned with news of Prince James’ death.

“She’s not here.” a muffled voice says from above the leaves of their apple tree. He is unsurprised. They brought it here when they moved into the palace and tending to it had been something just for the two of them, a small island of happiness in an otherwise lonely castle.

“No, I suppose not.” He says, playing along, “but I think she’ll show up if I wait here long enough. Hopefully I’ll find her before I catch that cold that’s been going around. Maybe she’ll find me to bring me a coat otherwise. She loves me, you know. Wouldn’t let me wait in the cold and get sick.”

Choked laughter filters down and he waits patiently as Regina makes her way back to solid ground. When she finally drops down next to him, he pulls her into a hug. “Hello, love.” He says, “How are you doing?”

“I’ve made a mistake, Daddy, it’s all my fault.” She says through her tears, “It’s my fault that Prince James is dead.”

“Nonsense. Prince James’ death was a tragedy, but no one could have preven-”

But Regina’s cries interrupt him as she tells him her story. With each passing sentence, his heart grows heavier with despair. His death was not her fault, this he knows. But she believes so deeply in her guilt that others are sure to believe as well.

"Daddy, what do I do?" She asks and his heart breaks at her voice, so small and too young.

“Oh Regina, I do not know.” He admits, “But I know of another who will, if you refuse to yield your misplaced guilt. Will you do your father a kindness and let it go?”

He already knows her answer, for his daughter has always been good and kind. Regina shakes her head, “I can’t, Daddy. It was my fault. I have to fix it.”

And so he tells her, because this must be the lesser of two evils, “You must wait by the apple tree, and make sure you do not fall asleep. Tonight the full moon rises and when she has reached her zenith, her light will tempt the firebird to the apples of the tree. It is a keeper of destiny and will surely know what you must do."

Regina sniffs, “What should I ask it?”

“That is between you and the firebird.” He says. “Tell no one what you speak of, for your destiny is your own and no one else’s. Promise me, Regina, that you will be careful. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“Of course!” She says, tears dried with renewed hope, “Thank you, Daddy!” She hugs him before turning to leave.

“And Regina!” he calls out, “The firebird keeps destiny, but it also courts more death than it does life. Tread lightly.”

He does not know if she hears him. His daughter has always hoped too strongly, he thinks. It makes her beautiful, but also vulnerable. He prays that she will survive this ordeal.

\---

When Regina sneaks past the guards and into the garden that night, only her footfalls interrupt the quiet. By the grace of the rising moon she makes her way to the tree, apples golden in its light.

The tree appears to be glowing, she thinks, and wonders why her father had never brought her out to see this secret. No wind teases the leaves and no insects interrupt the silence, substantive enough to unsettle her. It is beautiful and jarring, as though someone had painted the landscape without ever seeing it - picturesque, but lifeless all the same.

The stillness seeks to pull her into itself and she struggles to keep awake. Nodding off once, twice, she fears she will not be able to rouse herself a third time. Still, she cannot help but let her eyes close.

She thinks she is dreaming at first, for the garden has been set ablaze and yet nothing burns. Her eyes open, slow and heavy with sleep, and in front of her sits a bird, large as a peacock and twice as beautiful. It gleams the color of fire in the sun against the moonlit night and Regina thinks she has never seen anything as beautiful or as alive before and that she never will again. Her breath comes in sharp, drawing the attention of the firebird toward her.

It cocks its head at her as though curious and it does not fly away. She breathes out a sigh of relief. “Hello,” she ventures. “I’m Regina.”

Still it stays where it sits and she edges closer, “My father tells me you are a keeper of destiny and that you will be able to help me.”

Closer, closer still, she reaches for it, “I have given away something that did not belong to me and in doing so, caused an unjust death. I must right this wrong. Please firebird, tell me what I must do.”

And the firebird leans toward her, as though to to tell her a secret when-

“Who’s out there?” A voice calls out, breaking the stillness and the silence. The firebird jerks back, wings flapping as it takes flight.

“No!” Regina cries, grabbing for it, hand closing around its tail, “Wait!”

But the firebird breaks free.

“Lady Regina?” the voice asks. She turns to see a guard, “What are you doing out here so late?”

Regina opens her clenched fist to find a single feather, still glowing the color of fire in the sun against the moonlit night. The firebird is but another speck of light in the starry night.

“Nothing.” She says, “Just trying to think.”

“Well, come think inside.” The guard tells her, “It’s not safe out here these nights. You should be careful, Lady Regina. Princess Snow would be devastated to lose you too.”

Regina sighs, for she knows that the firebird will not return to this garden again, not when she has stolen a feather from it. Her chance to redeem herself has passed, but perhaps Princess Snow can still make use of the feather she has procured.

\---

"You must not tell Princess Snow," he begs, "for she will turn her eyes toward you and in her grief, fault you for his death."

He places a finger on her mouth to stem whatever protests she may have had, "And perhaps you may believe that to be true. Perhaps it may be true. But know that I know you, and I do not believe you to be capable of causing such an atrocity."

"But Princess Snow will believe and she will sentence you to death for it. You must not tell her.” He grips her shoulders, tight as though afraid she will slip away, and he begs, “Bury the feather underneath the apple tree and forget that you ever saw the firebird."

But Regina, who is still good and kind and who still _believes_ , seeks an audience with Princess Snow so that she may give her what she herself was denied.

"Regina." Princess Snow says, not bothering to look up, "What is it? I've no time for you today."

"Princess Snow," Regina says, "I know you have lost your True Love, bu-" Her presentation of the firebird's feather is interrupted by her sudden migration to the south wall and a hand in her chest where it does not belong.

"You will speak quickly." Snow says, "Or I will crush your heart where you stand."

"There is still hope!" Regina gasps out, trying to breathe through the pain of her forcibly constricted heart, "I have the feather!"

Snow relaxes her grip, "The feather?" she asks with all the calmness of a still river.

And Regina tells Snow everything, how she had told the secret, how Prince James' death was her fault, how the firebird could bring him back, how she tried to capture it but only managed to grab but a single feather,how there was still hope to be grasped at, and that the firebird, keeper of destiny, would know how to capture it.

"So you see, we ca-" Regina tries to say, only to be interrupted once more by Snow squeezing.

"What I see," Snow says, with that same calmness, "is that you are to blame for the death of Prince James."

Too late she realizes her mistake and this is the undertow, pulling Regina under until she suffocates. Princess Snow removes the feather from her coat. "So, this is a feather of the firebird?" She asks, twisting it between her fingers. All Regina can do is nod, afraid that anything else will damn her further.

"It is a lovely feather." Princess Snow says, releasing her grip on Regina's heart. “Would you like to keep it for your execution tomorrow?”

Regina crashes to the floor, knees clattering against the stone as her breath comes out in heaves. "What?" She asks.

"You believe that the firebird can return my Prince James to me? That returning him will absolve you of your guilt? You have hope, yes?" Princess Snow asks and Regina does not answer, for fear that the undertow will sweep her up again. Princess Snow lays but a single hand on Regina's cheek, so gently it could have been kind, and Regina forces herself to look up. Princess Snow's eyes are hard and she tries to remember that they once were warm.

"Your mother taught me this." Princess Snow says, "Just as she tried to teach you. I do my best to finish her work now." She leans in, breath ghosting Regina's ear, "Your hope has always been worthless. It buys you nothing, least of all my forgiveness. Prince James is dead by your hand and no fairy tale or half-spun legend can bring him back."

Here she pulls back, spine straight and smile harsh, just like Regina remembers her mother would, "Regina, I sentence you to death for your crimes against the Crown. You meet the executioner's block tomorrow. Guards!"

Regina drowns.


	3. chapter ii. wolf

A loud whisper cuts through her sleep, “Regina! Regina! Wake up!”

“Wha-Who?” She slurs as she sits up, back protesting from its night on the cold stone floor of the cell.

Her father stands in front of the door, unlocking it with a key he shouldn’t have.

“Regina, wake up!” He whispers again, wrenching the door open, “You have to go!”

“Go?” She asks, mind and body still sluggish as Henry pulls her to her feet, “Where?”

“Away. Princess Snow has ordered your execution. Oh Regina, you didn’t listen to me, did you? You told her about the firebird, didn’t you?”

She blinks the sleep out of her eyes as fast as she can, “I had to, Daddy, it was the right thing to do.”

“Yes, I know, love. But now you’re to die in the morning for it and so you must leave here before then. I’ve had Rocinante saddled up and the gates left unlocked for you. Here, there are meats and cheese in this bag. Enough to last you until you escape.”

She fumbles with the bag he throws at her as they hurry through the palace corridors and to the stables.

“Wait, but-”

“There’s no time!” He helps her onto Rocinante and she is still tired enough to let him.

As if on cue, a shout rings through the castle and the alarms soon after it.

Henry swears under his breath. “Go!” he insists, “I will follow shortly.”

Still, she does not move. “Do you promise?”

“Yes.” He says, and if she notices the pause he cannot help, the crack in his voice that snaps free, she does him the kindness of not mentioning it. The sounds of armor clanking draw closer.

“Please go.” He says, “And know that I love you very much.” He does not reach for her although he desperately wants to, for fear that she would not let go.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She says, “I should have listened to you. I’m so sorry.”

And then she is gone.

“Be safe.” He whispers, a prayer on the winds for the forest to hear.

He does not have to wait long before the guards find him. They drag him into the cell where they had kept Regina and lock the door behind them. He no longer has the key.

Snow White appears that night, entering in a plume of purple dark as shadows. “Where is she?” She demands, “Where is your daughter?”

“Away.” He says and says no more.

She grits her teeth. “Then you will die in her stead.” she hisses, “And you’ll die knowing that the entire force of the Crown chases her too. Then, after you’ve hanged, I’ll truss your body up by the forest so that the crows can pick at your innards. And when my guards catch her, they’ll march her right past your body. She’ll see your bones and know that she’s killed you too.”

He has not been able to do much for his daughter in their time together – neither power nor freedom have been on their side. But he would gladly die, if it meant keeping her safe. This he can do for her.

\---

The hunter’s moon shines tonight and the ground is bloody with it. Regina pushes Rocinante faster than they’ve ever ridden before and together they slip through the shadows of the trees. The cobblestones become dirt and the dirt thins until it becomes but untrodden grass. She dares not look back lest the silhouette of guards chasing them grows larger. By the time she slows down, they are deep in the forest and lost in the thick of its trees.

What can she do, but continue forward? To do anything else would mean death and so, they continue. She can no longer hear the gallop of her pursuers. It is fortunate; in this darkness they can only travel so fast.

As the sun rises, the grass they travel on grows thinner until it becomes dirt once more. She can pick out the hints of a path worn down by travel and with no other options, she leads Rocinante on it. They pick their way through it for as long as they can until, surprisingly, the path splits.

In front of her lay three paths, each marked by a large stone, the flat of each bearing a message.

 **Whosoever travels this road shall die, but their horse shall survive** reads the leftmost stone.

 **Whosoever travels this road will know naught but cold and hunger, but they and their horse shall survive** reads the middle stone.

 **Whosoever travels this road shall survive, but their horse shall die** reads the rightmost stone.

The words have been carved too perfectly for any human hand to have done it. They are a sign that she has stumbled upon a boundary between the land of mortals and the fairy folk.

“ _See that, Regina?” he asks, pointing to something in the distance. She has to squint her eyes to see it - a bright red ring, far away and almost swallowed by the forest._

“ _It’s a fairy ring.” He explains to her, “They say that fairies dance in these woods and where they dance, fairy rings grow. They say that the fairies dance so beautifully, onlookers can’t help but dance with them too. And when they do, the fairies take them to their realm, a land so real it’s_ _could only be_ _a dream. Men have stumbled lost in the land of the fair folk for days, only to escape centuries later.”_

_Regina, who had wanted to dance with the fairies, starts to sniffle at this, somewhat scared, “I don’t want the fairies to take me, Daddy.”_

“ _Oh, don’t cry, Regina. You’ll have nothing to fear from the fair folk if you respect them. They’re honest folk, you see, if a bit odd. Those people, they shouldn’t have been anywhere near the fairies in the first place. A fair folk’s word is as good as truth, so yours must be too. They’re trick_ _st_ _ers though - should you ever encounter one of them, take nothing without offering something in exchange.”_

“ _But,” he says, hoisting her to his shoulders, “best to stay away from them. The fair folk aren’t kind either. They live a long time and the years have a way of making them forget how we mortals live. Don’t go into the deep woods, okay? If you find yourself having to, you be careful. And remember what I told you.”_

_Regina squeals as she goes up, dangers of fairies forgotten, “Daddy, put me down! Put me down!”_

The memory echoes sharp in her mind, as though it were just yesterday. She stifles a cry because even now, she cannot stop to mourn. “Oh Rocinante, what are we to do? We cannot return and if we push onward, we shall surely be lost in the realm of the fair folk. It could be centuries before we find our way back and by then, it will be far too late for us to do anything.”

Rocinante of course, has no answers, but he whinnies in response to her voice anyway. She finds it comforting.

And so Regina, who did not want to die but could no more bear the thought of Rocinante dying, chose the middle path. Cold and hungry were surely better things to be than dead.

\---

Although they had set out upon the path when the sun was still high in the sky, the forest quickly turns dark. When she looks up, only the moon remains in the sky, as though the sun had never risen that day. This is the land of the fair folk, a land so real it seems a dream. She does not know if the sun will rise for her again.

Soon after, the howls of wolves sound alarmingly close to them. She can see their shadows flitting between the trees and a large one, perhaps the leader of the pack, even stops to stare at them, its eyes glowing red-orange like the hunter’s moon.

They do not stop running until Rocinante tires.

“Perhaps we will die anyway.” She tells Rocinante, as she ties him to a tree. She can hear no wolves, but that means very little. Reconsidering the situation, she unties him again, “You won’t run off now, will you? Unless the wolves come back. You should probably run in that case.”

Rocinante whuffles and appears content to graze at the grass.

An upbringing as a lady does nothing to prepare one for surviving a life in the forest, but better to try and find food and water now than when she is too weak to do so.

\---

By the time Regina gives up, she is well and truly lost. She’s going to die out here, Rocinante is going to die out here, and this is all her fault. She buries her head in her hands and screams.

“You’re really useless, aren’t you?” a distinctly female voice asks.

Regina looks up, startled. There is a wolf. It is eating a deer carcass. It seems to have been at this task for some time, as the deer is more bone than meat by this point. She is unsure how she did not see it before. She blames the land, so real as to be a dream and some other mystical hogwash.

She recognizes the wolf by its eyes, those hunter’s moon eyes staring at her unblinkingly.

“Did you just...talk?”

“You see anything else with a mouth around here?” the wolf asks. “That’s alive, I mean. This deer isn’t going to talk again anytime soon.”

“I’m dreaming.” She says dazedly, “Or dying. I could be dying.”

“Don’t be silly!” It says, flouncing toward her. “It’s perfectly normal for Guardians to talk. It’d be pretty hard to do our jobs if we couldn’t! We’d just have to kill all the intruders instead of civilly getting them the hell out.”

“What?” Regina is more confused than when this conversation started. A conversation with a wolf, no less.

“Oh you know, those idiots who come into the forest without invitation. Which, we can understand someone getting lost, but then they get handsy and demand to stay and then I have to get them out. And the fairies always try to save them - Oh Red, don’t kill this one! I haven’t seen any human as pretty as this one before!” The wolf, Red, gnaws on a deer leg as she continues talking, “Of course, they say that every century.”

“Um.” Regina starts, swallowing hard, “Are you here to kill me?”

“What?” Red asks, surprise in her voice and face, “No! You were invited. You made a deal - cold and hungry for being not-dead. You know, most people would let me have their horse. I mean, it’s not really great meat, but deer gets kind of old after a while. Most people also know where they’re going and don’t get this lost so you’re a special case, aren’t you?”

Regina makes an outraged noise at that, “I know where I’m going!”

Regina didn’t think wolves could look skeptical, but there Red is, looking fairly skeptical.

“Out! I’m going out!”

“Yes, but where?” it asks.

Regina deflates, “Away, I guess. I don’t know beyond that.”

“Well there’s your problem!” It tells her, “Can’t go anywhere if you don’t know where you’re going. Let’s get you out of here, yeah? All the lands fold into this point of the Enchanted Forest. We can get you anywhere, really. Even to Chin if you really wanted to - I hear it’s nice but also going through some sort of countrywide war so maybe not Chin right now.”

As Red natters on, Regina tries to collect her thoughts, interrupting Red while she’s talking about a land called Agrabah, “Back.” Regina decides, “I want to go back. Eventually. I have to find something first, I think.”

Red’s ears perk up at this. “Even better!” she says, “An adventure! Tell me, what are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for the firebird.” She says and takes the feather out of her pocket to show to Red, “It came to our gardens one night and I was to ask it a question, but before I could, a guard startled it and it flew away. My father tells me that the firebird is a keeper of destiny and that it would know what I needed to do.”

Red looks at her, head tilted, “What did you want to ask it that’s so important you risk traveling through the realm of the fair folk?”

She remembers her father’s advice. “That is between me and the firebird.”

“Okay,” Red shrugs, “whatever you want. The forest keeps its deals. Get your horse, we’ve got a ways to travel.”

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I was very lost when you fou-”

And there is Rocinante, next to the tree she left him at, happily grazing away.

Mystical hogwash, the entire lot of it.

“Where are we going?” Regina asks as Red leads them into the woods, “Shouldn’t we follow the path?”

Red scoffs, “Yeah, if you knew where you were going. Paths take you where you need to go. As it is, you’ve been traveling in a circle this entire time. Not even a big one, how did you not notice this?”

Regina sighs, “I was busy trying not to be torn apart by wolves, one of which was you, if you recall.”

“Oh yeah, hah.” Red says, “Just being friendly, which you would have known if you hadn’t run away so quickly!”

Regina wants to point out that wolves do not normally come close to say hello, but Red continues to talk.

“I’m Red, by the way. Red of the Forest.”

“Regina,” she replies, “just Regina.”


	4. chapter iii. adventure

On the third day, Red declares her ‘wholly incompetent’ and ‘a walking unmitigated disaster liable to set the entire forest on fire once she learns how to start fires’ but also ‘not necessarily completely hopeless’.

They follow the river. Red teaches her how to forage and Regina becomes adept at identifying where copses grow, although she never finds more than enough to keep her from starving.

Red brings her a bow and a quiver one day. “You’re going to have to learn to hunt some time!” She says.

“Red.” Regina says, “There’s blood on this.”

Red makes a face, “You can pretend it’s animal blood if that makes you feel better.”

“Until you said that, I truly believed it was.”

Regina can barely pull the bow back at first and winces when the string snaps against her arm, tearing through it. In the rare occasions she does manage to fire an arrow, she misses every tree. Sometimes Red will run after the arrows and fetch them, sometimes she’ll have to fetch them herself when Red is sulking after nearly being hit.

In time, Regina learns how to hold the bow drawn, to release on the exhale, and to aim for where an animal will be. The first time she shoots a deer, she calls Red over to celebrate with her, only for Red to immediately pounce on the carcass.

“Red!” Regina exclaims.

“Cold and hungry!” Red reminds her, without bothering to chew first, “Thanks. I was starting to think you’d never start pulling your weight.”

Regina makes an outraged noise.

And together, they travel. Red leads Regina to the firebird as promised, but it has already been claimed by another. There are less obvious paths to the firebird and so they find excuses to stay with one another. Neither have ever had the opportunity to have a friend like the other and this tenuous friendship is not something they are willing to end yet.

Red will ask her, “Have you completed your task? Are you ready to go back yet?”

And Regina will answer, “No, I’ve not yet finished what I set out to do.”

To which Red will say, “Whatever you want. The forest keeps its deals.”

And in this way they pass one year, then two.

\---

“You sure about this?” Red asks.

“No.” Regina answers, “But what choice do I have?”

“Could just run away and not look back. That’s always a choice.”

Regina wrinkles her nose, “That’s a terrible idea.”

Red makes a shrugging motion, “It wouldn’t be our first. Look at that trellis. What’s it doing there? What do they think they’re going to grow on an island of rock surrounded by sea? I’ll bet you you’re going to have to climb it. You’re shit at that.”

Regina, indignant, “Excuse me? I was climbing trees before I could walk!”

“Yea, but you also got caught in the rigging of the ship on the way here and we had to cu-”

“An isolated incident,” Regina grinds out, “that will not be mentioned any further. Now, I am going to go steal a princess. You stay here like a good dog.”

Red makes a raspberry at her, but her snout can’t quite handle it and instead she just manages to send spittle flying at Regina.

\---

As far as reckless personal endangerment goes, inciting the petty ire of a sea goddess and then getting captured is pretty high on her list. Fortunately, sea goddesses also have more important things to do with their time than settle petty grudges so she’s not dead yet.

She’s wondering how to escape this alarmingly tall tower surrounded by violent sea with no doors and a single window when a hand appears in that only window. A figure tumbles after it, landing safely if not gracefully on the floor.

“Uh.” Emma says, “Hello?” She’s not sure what’s happening but she isn’t opposed to escaping this tower with her potential rescuer.

“Did you know,” the figure says, panting for breath, “that whoever built this tower stopped building steps around the seventh landing?”

“I did not.” Emma admits, “But I was magically teleported here by a sea goddess I may or may not have accidentally pissed off so I missed the tour.”

She squints suspiciously, “And if there aren’t any stairs, how did you get up here? And what are you doing here?”

The figure straightens and tosses her sea-sprayed hair back, her hands coming to rest on her tilted hips. Her hair is coarse with the wind in the same way her eyes are hard, like she wears a stranger’s weathered cloak. Emma thinks she would look lovely in a softer light, but she also suspects that such a life is beyond them both. In the backlighting of the window though, she looks every bit the dashing rogue of a hero.

“I climbed the trellis. Which is absolutely useless in this kind of environment for growing its intended plants if you were curious. My name is Regina. I’m here to rescue you.”

“Ah,” she says, and rattles her shackles, “I don’t suppose you have a key?”

Regina winks and it’s kind of horrible because she just blinks instead but it’s still unfairly attractive, “What kind of bandit would I be if I did?”

Emma can definitely work with this.

\---

“So about that key.” Emma says. They’ve been at this for longer than any self-respecting thief should be at a lock, even if the lock is an enchanted one.

“I’ve got this.” Regina insists.

“Are you sure?” Emma asks, “Because it looks like you’re just jiggling that pick in the hopes the lock’ll magically open. Pretty sure these aren’t enchanted to unlock on a whim.”

“Who’s the one trapped?” Regina grouses, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Nothing against some friendly advice.” Emma says back. “Just, maybe, okay stop that. Stop that. What kind of a thief are you?”

“I’m a bandit. _The_ bandit, depending on who you ask.” Regina says, “Highway robberies and chases on horseback through the woods are more my thing. But Red walked me through it and the theory seemed simple enough.”

“As an invested party, I’m going to have to say - theory isn’t working out so well for me.”

“I’d like to see you do better!”

“I’d love to show you, soon as I’m out of these shackles. Oh wait!”

Regina throws her hands up. “Fine! So I can’t pick the lock! But,” and here she gets a gleam in her eye, the sort that people get when they think they’re being particularly clever, “I’ve got an idea.”

The words come out smooth and practiced, as if she’s said it far too many times to be healthy.

“Uh. Am I going to regret this?”

Regina smiles, mischievous. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” And she pulls out a dagger.

“Oh no.”

Emma had not been aware that a dagger could be used to pry up floorboard like that.

“Wow.” She says, “You’d think they’d invest in better attachments for their shackles or something. I guess the entire no stairs past the seventh floor in a ten floor tower located in the middle of the sea thing stops most people. Not the shackles. Which, by the way-”

Emma steals Regina’s pick, “This is how you pick a lock.”

Shackles off, Emma turns to Regina. “So. What’s your exit plan? Wait, where are you going?”

Regina is already at the window, “Exiting. You coming?”

“Uh, I guess? Down the trellis and the stairs?”

“What? No, we don’t have time for that. The guard’s probably waking up. No, we’re going to jump.”

“Regina, I’d like to point out that those kinds of falls kill people.”

“Don’t land on the rocks.”

“Thanks, Regina. I’ll keep that in mind as I _climb down the trellis and the stairs like a sane person.”_

Regina shrugs, “Okay. Up to you.” She gestures for Emma to go first, “You’ll need the head start on me.” She says, smugly.

Emma rolls her eyes and makes to get onto the trellis.

“Hey, remember what I said?”

“Yes. Not like it’s something I’ll actually need to-Regina!”

Regina shoves her out the window. “Tuck your head in!” She yells out after Emma.

\---

“I can’t believe you pushed me out a window! I could have died!” Emma accuses, still shivering aboard the ship.

“But you didn’t! Which is all that matters in the end.” Red says, as she sniffs at Emma.

“I could have!” Emma emphasizes, “And you’re talking! You’re a wolf! Wolves don’t talk! How are you talking?! And stop sniffing at me!”

“I’m Red of the Forest.” She says, “And you smell of magic, which is weird for your kind.”

“Red? You’re Red?” Emma glares at Regina, “You took lockpicking advice from a wolf? Do you see opposable thumbs on her? Gah!” Emma shakes her hand out of Red’s jaw, “Stop that! Do not eat me!”

“I wasn’t going to eat you, silly! We just saved you. It’d be a shame to let all that work go to waste. I just wanted to see if you tasted of magic too.”

“And do I?” Emma asks, still put out by being shoved out a window and then chewed on by a talking wolf, “And who are you people anyway?”

“You do!” Red says, “Although I don’t know what that means yet. We’re adventurers on a quest. Right, Regina?”

“Yes,” Regina agrees, “We’ve been tasked to return you to Maleficent of the North, Princess Lily.”

“Ah. Yes, I see.” Emma says.

Both Regina and Red stop. Regina, who had been taught to be a lady and then thrown into the shark-infested landscape of the courts, notices the sudden stiffness in Emma’s posture. Red, who has been a wolf for many centuries, recognizes the smell of a lie.

“Is something the matter, Princess Lily?”

“No, no!” Emma says quickly, “Nothing at all. We’d best be getting out of here, right? No sense in letting the guard send an alarm ahead of us.”

There is a noticeable pause.

“You’re not Princess Lily, are you?” Regina asks.

“Not technically, no.” Emma admits.

Red looks at Regina, “Wow, you really are useless, aren’t you?”

“Quiet, Red.” Regina snaps before looking at Emma, “Well then, if you’re not Princess Lily, where is she?”

Behind them, a great dragon bursts through the tower, collapsing the foundation and causing the entire structure to crumble to the ground. It roars fire as it searches the seas for them.

“Ah.” Regina says.

“Well, this is unfortunate.” Red says.

“I’m Emma.” Emma says, “Just thought you should know before we all died.”

\---

“Princess Lily is a dragon?” Regina yells, fumbling with the mooring.

“Are you surprised?” Red asks, doing her best to help.

“Yes!”

“Well, why? Her mother’s a dragon too.”

“Maleficent? Maleficent of the North is Maleficent, the Dragon of the North?”

“Yes? How did you not see it?”

“Because when we met her she looked perfectly human! There were no distinct signs that she was a dragon whatsoever! No scales, horns, wings, or quadrupedal movement!”

“Well that’s what you get for trusting your shitty human vision.”

“Red!”

“Hey, hey!” Emma cuts in, “Dragon! Death raining on us from above!”

Regina grimaces, “This ship won’t sail faster than a dragon, especially not with these winds.”

Emma looks around, spotting a cannon to the side. “I have an idea.” She says.

The words come out smooth and practiced, as if she’s said it far too many times to be healthy.

“Oh no.”

“Okay.” Emma says, “Fire on my command.”

“This is a terrible idea.” Regina says from behind the cannon.

“Well, we’ll call it payback for pushing me out a window.” She starts waving her arms and yelling, “Hey! Hey, you overgrown lizard! Over here!”

“Emma.” Regina hisses, “Stop provoking the very lethal dragon!”

The command comes out too late. Lily turns her head and, noticing the ship, veers back to promptly incinerate them.

“I hope you’re a better shot than you are a thief, Regina! Fire!”

The cannonball smashes into Lily’s head, stopping her from burning them all into char and sending her tumbling into the ocean. The resulting wave nearly capsizes them.

“Wow. I can’t believe that worked.” Emma says, demure with shock.

“Do you think Maleficent will kill us if we bring her daughter back with severe head injuries?” Red muses.

“I like how you think we can carry a dragon back across the Bottomless Sea and into the Northlands.” Regina say, also shaken but admirably pragmatic through it.

“Yea, I don’t think any kind of wind is going to get us back to land with that dragon in tow.” Emma says.

“Only if you don’t know any of them personally.” Red says in return.

“Red?”

“All the fair folk know each other, Regina. I’m sure I could call in a favor from the North Wind.”

Stranger things have happened, Regina supposes. She nods.

“Great! I’ll need a bird.” She looks up, “That one looks stupid enough to be caught. Get that one for me. Alive.”

Regina and Emma follow her gaze. Between them and a seagull is a web of rigging.

“Emma.” Regina says, “You wanted to climb the trellis, did you not?”

\---

Red keeps the seagull between her paws as it squawks and squirms desperately. She promises to never kill it, should it deliver a message to the North Wind for her before the sun sets. When she releases it, it flies south. They watch it until it disappears into the horizon.

“Do you think it’ll do what it said?” Emma asks. “If I were that bird, I’d fly the hell away and never come back.”

“The fair folk’s word is as good as truth.” Regina assures her. “It’ll deliver the message.”

Red tilts her head curiously, “Who told you that, Regina? That’s not something everyone knows.”

Before Regina can answer, a gale of wind blows past them and had Red not insisted they reef the sails, they surely would have rolled.

“Hello, Red.” It says, “I got your message. How have you been? How’s Granny?”

“Oh you know, it gets old a few centuries in. Not Granny though, she’ll outlive all of us, you watch.”

Emma thinks she hears a sound, like laughter carried on the winds from far away. It’s a little surreal, if she’s being honest.

“What can I do you for, Red?”

“Are you headed home to the north, brother? We would appreciate favorable winds to the Northlands.”

“I would be happy to allow you to travel alongside me on my journey home. You best unfurl your sails then; we’ve got a long way to go.”

“Of course, brother. Thank you for your help.”

“Wait.” Emma says, “What does he mean by ‘alongside him’?” The sails come down with a _fwump._

“Just that, Emma.” Red says, “Did you secure Lily to the ship?”

“Yeah but-” The sound of a great being inhaling interrupts Emma and before she can continue, the sound of a great being exhaling throws her off balance and onto the ship deck.

She rolls onto her back but does not get up. To her sides, she can literally see the clouds as they fly past them. “We’re flying.” She says, disbelievingly.

“We’re actually flying. We’re flying by the North Wind’s, the actual North Wind, mind you, the North Wind’s grace and there’s a dragon attached to our ship. How are you not surprised by this?” She demands.

Regina shrugs, “It’s been a long adventure, Emma.”


	5. interlude. bargains

Here is the tricky thing about truths - they don't always follow stories. Sometimes you find a story only to discover that in the telling of it, the story has birthed an unwelcome truth.

If there are stories of darkness, of great evils to be vanquished, then there must follow that there too are stories of saviors. They come thundering in upon gallant steeds, brandishing weapons from forgotten legends. Defiant in the face of great and terrible power, they ride into the yawning dark so that they may chase it away. What corruption could hope to still stand in the wake of such sacrifice?

And this is the unwelcome truth - only heroes live happily ever after. Saviors are the shadows of dark things and the two either coexist or not at all. The stories of saviors are ones of great sacrifice for higher purposes and greater goods. After all, what use is a savior in an era of peace and prosperity?

There could be no other ending to their story.

(That's just the way these things go. A truth, if there ever was one.)

And so children of destiny are born - from stories that call for saviors to sacrifice and a world that believes in them too deeply.

\---

“ _Emma.” a voice purrs in the dark._

_She squints, but there is no light to see by. “Who’s there?” she calls out, wary. She stretches out a fumbling hand and meets a cold wall of stones, mortar dusting off onto her fingertips._

“ _Emma,” it says again, disapprovingly this time, “is that anyway to talk to a friend?”_

_Following the wall in the hopes of finding an exit, she says to buy time, “Lady, I don’t know who you are but I am pretty sure we’re not friends.”_

“ _Oh but Emma, we could be. After all, you should consider yourself lucky that it’s only little old me in here. And what a fascinating place to be!”_

“ _Uh huh.” Emma says. She finds a corner. “You want to tell me where we are?”_

_It laughs, lilting and dangerous, “Where would the fun in that be? No, Emma, why don’t you see for yourself?”_

“ _I see-” Another corner, farther than the last, “-exactly shit-all.”_

“ _No need to be rude, Emma. You’ll need a light first, of course. Human vision is so terribly inconvenient.”_

_Great, Emma thinks, it’s judging her human eyes which means it probably doesn’t have human eyes which means she’s probably trapped somewhere with a beast of some kind playing with its food before it devours her whole. She does not voice this. Instead, “Right. Let me just wish that I had a light to see by. That will defini-Fuck!”_

_Not only does something start glowing, that something is her left hand on the wall, and it reveals the second being in the room._

“ _Fuck!” She swears again, staring into the very human-looking eyes of something also sporting a very not human-looking grin. She’s so close she can feel its breath on her._

“ _Boo.” It says, just for fun, she’s sure. She jumps back. “Oh, a wish! And what a way to have it granted! Be careful with those, dear. That’s two.”_

_Emma is not entirely sure what is happening. Glowing hand notwithstanding, there are no doors to be found along the walls. It is as though someone has built a room around them, one which they are not meant to escape. There is also the matter of the maybe inhuman thing in the room with her, although its female guise could pass for human if it would stop grinning like that._

_Also if it weren’t for the sword through its chest, pinning it to a wall._

“ _Emma,” it coos, “I have a proposition for you.”_

“ _Nope.” Emma says, “This is not happening. This can’t possibly be real. This is just a dream. I’m going to wake up any moment, hungover and thrown out of a tavern. That’s all. Nope. Nope, goodbye.” She tries to back away further, but it reaches out, impossibly fast, and grabs her by her shirt._

_Still grinning, it tells her, “Oh Emma, you may be dreaming, but that doesn’t make this any less real. Now, about that proposition-”_

_Its countenance shifts, grin dropping away, head turning as if to hear an unspoken sound. “Alas,” it sighs wistfully, “our time together is coming to an end. But I have enjoyed your company, brief and rude as it was.”_

_It pats her cheek, “You’ll be back, dear. Of that I’m certain. But for now, it’s time to wake up.”_

“ _What?” Emma asks._

“I said, wake up!” and then something cold and wet hits her.

“What th-wha? Who?” Emma sputters, startling. “What the hell!”

The stranger looks at her, “Finally. I was starting to think that you were cursed. You’ll be wanting to get out of the road now. The next passerby might just run you over.”

Emma looks around. She’s in the middle of a crossroad, unsure of how she ended up here and also surprisingly not hungover.

“Uh, what happened?” She asks as she gets up, trying in vain to dust off her wet clothes.

The stranger shrugs, “Don’t know. I was riding through when your prone body interrupted me.”

Emma checks for all four limbs and is grateful that she still has them, as well as her coin purse. “Could you at least tell me where we are?”

“The crossroad of Avalon and DunBroch” the stranger says.

“Okay, sure, why not. Where are you going and can I ride with? I’ve got coin.”

The stranger appraises her, as if debating whether or not she should risk taking on a straggler that she found face-down in the middle of not one, but two roads. “Mulan,” she finally relents, “I am headed to DunBroch.” She puts out a hand to help Emma up.

“Emma,” she says back, taking the hand, “So am I apparently.”

Mulan attempts to let Emma ride with her on her horse, but he bucks her not three steps in when she grips his flank in her panic. It is only by Mulan’s superior hold on her horse that she is not thrown off as well. They settle for walking together. Mulan is a quiet traveling companion, not even bothering to look at Emma as they go. Perhaps she doesn’t see Emma as any real threat to her person. Or perhaps she doesn’t care.

“I think I was dreaming.” Emma finally says to break the silence.

“Must’ve been a good dream.”

Emma tries to remember. The only thing that lingers is a sense of malaise. “No,” she says, frowning, “I don’t think it was anything good.”


	6. chapter iv. portent

“Ugh.” Emma says, hand on her face muffling her voice. She and Regina have retreated to the bunks in an attempt to stave off the seasickness that apparently comes with riding a ship built for the sea on the currents of the North Wind instead.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Emma had said when she had gotten up. Then she had staggered to the side of the ship and thrown up. Red, in front of her, tongue out, had turned to look, causing a glob of saliva to fly back and hit Emma in the face, promptly inciting another bout of emptying her stomach.

Regina had laughed so hard she doubled over, but gave into the nausea soon after as well, much to Emma’s snide amusement.

“I’m going outside.” She announces, “This room smells of misery and death.”

Regina just waves her hand, talking too much of an effort it would seem.

Outside, the wind stings her eyes as she stands at the railing, careful to not be downwind of Red this time.

“Hey, when you guys were blowing chunks, you think any of it hit like, a random person below us?”

“What th-” Emma turns around because that was definitely not Red’s voice. Behind her sits a girl, perched atop the railing as though apathetic to the possibility of an errant bump tipping her over the edge. “Shit!” she curses, flailing back and landing hard.

“Was it something I said?” The girl asks.

Emma doesn’t bother getting up, “What the fuck is happening.” She says flatly instead.

Red bounds up to lick at her face, “Oh I see you’ve met Princess Lilith!” Emma pushes her off.

“Princess Lilith, the dragon we shot a cannonball at, Princess Lilith?”

“Yes,” she says, “Which was very rude, by the way.”

“So is murder!” Emma insists.

“Murder is such a strong word. I would have gone with ‘burned down your ship, leaving you to drown of your own volition’.” She airily waves her hand, “Now, I normally like to know who people are before I let them lob cannonballs at my head. You can call me Lily. Only my mother calls me Lilith.”

“Technically, Regina fired the cannonball.” Emma weakly offers.

“Wow, Emma!” Red says, “Way to thank us for saving you from a tower in the middle of nowhere!”

“I want the blame properly distributed when Lily here, who I’m going to remind you, _is a dragon,_ burns this ship to ash, sending all of us hurtling to our deaths.” Emma protests.

“Nah,” Lily says, “This happens all the time. Ma always sends some poor saps to retrieve me whenever she needs me for something. Normally I roast and eat them, then fly myself back, so good job on not dying.”

She languidly stretches, “This is like a free ride back home. It’s nice.”

Red, the traitor, is letting herself be scratched behind the ears by Lily, “What were you doing out there anyway?” she asks.

“Just spending some time with Aunt Ursula. It’s always warmer out in the Bottomless Sea during the winter. She asked me to guard the tower for a spell because Emma over here is a dumbass.”

“How was I supposed to know that she was Ursula, Sea Witch and terror of all the oceans? And your aunt! How does that even work?”

“God-aunt.” Lily says, “And I thought it would be obvious. Anyone with eyes could see that she was merfolk.”

Red nods sagely at this, “I’m telling you, shitty human eyes.”

Emma buries her face in her hands. She should’ve stayed inside with Regina.

\---

Maleficent is waiting for them when they arrive. The North Wind had blown harshly in the past few days, carrying whispers of her visitors on its currents.

She watches as the object in the sky careens closer and closer without any hint of slowing down. Then, she wisely sidesteps as the ship plows right into her west tower. As it turns out, it is much easier to lift a ship out of the water and propel it across the sky by sheer force of the wind than it is to land said ship gently.

Before the ship’s untimely high-velocity impact, a smaller mass ejects itself from the side. In a plume of smoke, it becomes her daughter, carrying something in her claws. She makes a pass to drop off her passengers before looping back to land.

“Damnit,” one of the humans, Regina, says as the ship explodes and the tower collapses in on itself, “I liked that ship too.”

“We stole that one.” Red reminds her.

“And now we’ll have to steal another one.”

There is a another human, one she does not recognize, but this one remains mute. She also looks like she is about to throw up.

Her daughter lands by them in a cloud of dust, smoke from her transformation causing all of them to gag.

“Hey Ma, got your message.” Her daughter says, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck.

“Welcome home, Lilith. I see you’ve brought some...riffraff with you. You couldn’t have done away with them before returning?” Maleficent says, embracing her.

“They’re not so bad - be nice.” Lily says, squirming out of Maleficent’s arms. “That one shot a cannonball at me.” She gestures at Regina, who becomes the target of Maleficent’s glare.

“But it was that one’s idea,” she continues, gesturing to Emma, who gapes indignantly at her.

“Just properly distributing blame, Emma.” Lily says through her grin.

Regina steps in front of Emma before Maleficent decides to escalate the situation. “Lady Maleficent,” she says, drawing herself up and taking on the imperiousness of the court, “As promised, we have returned with your daughter. We ask that you fulfill your part of the arrangement now. The golden horse, if you will.”

Maleficent considers just eating all of them, but her daughter lightly shoves at her, “Ma. I’m fine, don’t worry. You’ve always said I had a hard head. Hey, you promised these people the horse? Thought you were going to keep that thing until the end of all of our days and then maybe even after that?”

“They were very insistent on the horse as payment,” Maleficent says, tone almost sullen, “and I had thought you would dispose of them, as you always do.”

“Eh. I gave them points for creativity.”

Maleficent sighs, “Oh very well. What’s done is done. Come along. You’ll have dinner with us and spend the night. I’m sure you’ve had a long trip. Your quest can surely wait until the dawn.”

She’s already turned to leave when the third one, Emma, finally speaks up, “Oh uh, sorry about your tower. And the mess, I guess.”

“It’s alright,” Maleficent says, “I never did like that tower.”

\---

In the early dawn, Lily and Maleficent see them off.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Lily says, punching Emma in the shoulder, “We’re friends now and friends visit each other in their castles atop perilous cliffs.”

“Ow. Uh, how about you visit me since, y’know, you probably won’t die finding me.”

Lily laughs at this but then quickly sobers, “Take care out there, Emma. My mother rarely calls me back and never for anything good.” Her eyes gleam gold in the rising sunlight and Emma remembers that despite her youthful appearance, Lily has lived for over a century.

To their side, Maleficent hands Regina the reins to the golden horse and Rocinante. Their hands briefly contact and Maleficent clasps Regina’s tightly. “It is not by chance that you’ve met your companions.” Maleficent says, nonchalant as though commenting on the weather. “The wheels of destiny begin to turn once more and I suspect you’ve a part to play in its machinations.”

Regina frowns, wanting to say something but unsure of what to say. She opens her mouth-

“Hey, Regina! Let’s move!” Emma calls out.

Regina turns back to Maleficent, but she has already swept away back to her castle.

“You okay?” Emma asks when Regina catches up and hands the reins of the golden horse over.

“Just thinking.” Regina says. “Something Maleficent mentioned.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“I’m sure it was nothing.” Regina dismisses, “Just the overly dramatic and suitably ominous vague notions one might expect from an old and bored dragon looking to stir up some excitement.”

Emma barks a laugh, “They did seem like the dramatic sort of dragons, huh? I’ll bet you they do the entire terrorize the village and steal off the nobles thing, just to fry a few knights.”

Red has already wound down the mountain, too impatient to return to familiar ground to wait for them to make their own way down the mountain. Regina can see her from their height, a black blur loping toward the forest. While there had been a well-maintained path at some point, it has long since been overrun with shrubbery and rock debris. Dragons have little need for paths, after all.

“So,” Emma says to break the awkward silence that settles after they’ve established a steady pace, “you’re _the_ bandit, huh? Are the stories about you true? They say a bandit stole the Crown Jewels right off of Queen Snow’s head. Was that you?”

Regina pretends to mull it over, “Perhaps. Or perhaps not. People tell all kinds of stories about bandits in theses parts. What of you, Emma? Do they tell stories of a thief?”

Emma shakes her head, “I’d be a pretty shitty thief if they told stories about me. No, as far as we’re all concerned, I’m an honest citizen. I hear they tell stories of a thief named Robin Hood though, maybe it’s him you’ve heard of?”

Regina laughs, “So mysterious, Emma. One might say you’re hiding something.”

“No more than you, Regina. One could say the same about you.” Emma says, matching the inflection. “Tell me about you and Red. You’re an odd traveling pair and that’s saying something, coming from me.”

Regina counters, “And what’s the story worth to you?”

“An answer to a question.” Emma offers.

“Red wanted adventure.” Regina says.

Emma waits for her to continue, but Regina stays silent. “What did you want?” she asks after another moment.

“That’s two questions.”

“Two answers then.”

But Regina refuses to say anything else and the silence settles back on them, heavier than before. It is some time before she speaks again. “Why a thief?” She asks.

Emma shrugs, flippant, “Nothing else to be.”

“Forgiveness. Why not?”

“No one to tell me otherwise. Forgiveness for what?”

“A secret not kept. Family?”

“Not an option.” Emma says, stiff. Regina notices, but does not comment. “First theft?” She asks instead, steering the conversation to safer grounds.

“It wasn’t your turn,” Emma says, teasingly.

“Two answers then,” Regina says, smiling. And so they pass the rest of the way trading stories of their exploits, each one more outrageous than the last, but perhaps more true.

“Hey,” Emma says, when they near the bottom, “I never thanked you for getting me out of the tower. I was a bit preoccupied.” At this she laughs weakly, “It’s not every day you fly a ship on the North Wind into a dragon’s tower.”

Regina hums, “I suppose not. Although with what Red and I’ve been through, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.”

“Just another day for you, huh? So what grand adventure are you going on next? Stealing the Crown Jewels off Queen Snow’s head again? Saving another wayward princess from the grasps of a nefarious sea witch?”

“Emma, if the day ever comes when you’re a princess, I’ll eat a boot. No, we’re off to see the witch of animals to make a trade.”

Before Emma can ask what Regina’s talking about, Regina whistles, loud and sharp, in the direction of the forest.

Soon after, Red comes bounding up, “Took you guys long enough!”

“Yes, well, we can’t all be wolves, can we? Some of us have to walk on two human feet and lead horses in the while.” Regina says.

Red sticks her tongue out at that. “So where are you going now, Emma?”

“Wherever, I guess? It’s not like I had a plan when I got locked up and between you the talking wolf, the North Wind, and the dragons, it’s not like I’ve had any time to figure it out either.”

“You should come with us!” Red says, looping around the group, “Regina, she should come with us, right? It’ll be fun! We’ll go on adventures! We’ve had lots of those.”

Emma grins, “So I’ve heard. Did you really trip into a hive of bees?”

Red looks betrayed, “Regina got stuck in the rigging on the boat and we had to cut her down!”

Emma laughs at the two of them.

“Well Emma,” Regina says when she and Red have finished glaring at each other, “you’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

“Yeah?” Emma says, tentative, “Why not? I’ll come until the next town. We’re in the middle of nowhere and it’d be better to travel as a group anyway.”

“Can you ride?” Regina asks, pulling herself up onto Rocinante.

“Uhm” Emma says, uncomfortably shifting next to the golden horse, “Only in the loosest sense depending on what you mean by ride.” She professes. “They don’t like me much.”

“She can ride with you, right Regina?” Red asks.

Regina frowns, “Not for long. Rocinante can’t handle the weight of two people. You’ll just have to learn now. Get on the horse, Emma.”

The golden horse and Emma stare at each other, “Uh, Regina, I don’t know, this horse is giving me a funny look.”

Regina sighs, “No, Emma, it’s just curious. Get on the damn thing so we can ride out.”

“I want us to all acknowledge that I thought this was a terrible idea.” Emma says with great trepidation before approaching the golden horse’s side, dawdling when she nears.

“Acknowledged. Now get on.”

“Regina, I don’t think she can-” Red starts when Emma hauls herself onto the horse with surprising fluidity.

“Hey! I’m up! Regina, look! Look! No hands!”

The golden horse is also surprisingly placid while all of this commotion occurs.

“Yes, congratulations, dear,” Regina drawls, “Now have you also learned how to ride proper between now and when I asked you last?”

“No,” Emma says petulantly.

Regina sighs; she suspects she will be sighing often in the near future. “It’s fine. I can guide you for now.” She ties a lead to the golden horse and they trot off together.

“Red?” Regina asks, when she doesn’t see her at their side.

Red’s ears are back although Regina can’t tell why. “Yeah, I’m coming,” she says.

\---

At nightfall, they stop to make camp.

“Red, can we talk?” Regina calls after she’s ensured that Emma’s fire won’t blaze into a forest-wide fire that burns them all with it.

“Sure,” Red says, following.

“Emma, you’ll be okay here alone?” Regina asks, “You’re not going to die in the five minutes we’ll be away?”

Emma waves them off, attention focused on the rabbit cooking.

When they’re far enough away that Emma can’t hear them, Regina rounds on Red, “Okay, what’s wrong – you’ve been acting strange all day, ever since we got off the mountain.”

“Regina, I don’t like this. She’s riding the golden horse.” Red whines.

“So? What’s not to like?” Regina asks, “That horse has been docile and good for her, which is more than I can say if she’d tried to ride Rocinante because Rocinante has some self-respect. She can ride it and save us the trouble of laughing at her when she inevitably fell off Rocinante. Which, maybe we should have let that happen just once. Besides, weren’t you the one who thought she could come along with us?”

“Regina,” Red says, voice low, “that’s a horse of power we stole. Maybe even the last horse of power.”

“Okay?” Regina isn’t sure what Red is talking about, but knows by now not to dismiss Red’s unease.

“They say that there are no horses of power anymore because there are no riders worthy of them anymore, that they sleep alongside their old masters, who slumber eternal. They’re waiting for an age of heroes to return so that they may find new masters.”

Regina frowns, “What are you saying? Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

Red shifts uncomfortably. “Because it wasn’t important earlier. A horse of power without a master is just a horse. But Regina, Emma can ride a horse of power, something that’s only supposed to happen during an age of heroes. And something only a hero of old is supposed to be able to do.”

Regina is silent for a moment, thinking. “Okay.” She says after a pause, “What can we do?”

“I don’t know!” Red says, tone pitching high with distress, “It’s not a good sign, Regina. We’re talking a lot of people dying and us right in the middle of it!”

“It’ll be fine.” Regina assures, “We won’t tell Emma anything and trade the horse to the witch of the animals. Okay? And then it’ll just be Emma and a horse of power without a master. No hero of old, no age of heroes, no one dying.”

Red doesn’t look convinced. “What else can we do?” Regina tries.

“Hope we make it out okay. We’re already involved, Regina. I don’t think there’s any escaping that. You should have fucking made sure it was Lily.” Red says, turning to head back, conversation over.

Regina wonders if Maleficent’s words hold any merit.


	7. chapter v. dreaming

Emma’s eyes blear open. The fire has long since gone out, embers cooled as well. The stars shine bright as she blinks the sleep away.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Mulan asks from her post keeping guard.

“Ugh.” Emma says in response.

“That’s the third time in as many nights.” Mulan notes, “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Fuck if I know.” Emma says, “Wish it’d do me the favor of telling me. Then maybe I could punch it until it went away. How long until sunrise?”

“Long enough for you to try to get some more sleep. It’s a long way to Agrabah still.”

Emma stares at the stars until they fade into day.

\---

“No.”

“This is not up for discussion.”

“Now that we agree on - the discussion ended at ‘no’.”

Mulan sighs, “Emma, Agrabah is not a county over. It is not even only one country over. It is multiple countries over. There is a mountain range in the way. You are going to have to learn to ride.”

Emma grimaces, “We could just get a cart.” she says, “That’s practical, right?”

“A mountain range.” Mulan reminds her.

Emma side-eyes the horse Mulan has procured and steels herself, “Okay. Let’s do this. Let’s get me atop a murderous hellbeast so that I can ride it like the wind to my demise.”

Mulan rolls her eyes, “Emma, just get on the damn horse.”

Emma is a terrible horsewoman, but Mulan has faith that the days to come will improve her skill.

(Much of Mulan’s faith is well-founded and met. This particular one was not. Emma never improves and gripes the entire way instead, much to her chagrin.)

\---

This is the fourth tavern Mulan has visited. She’s not sure why she’s going through all this trouble – her responsibility to Emma should have ended the moment they arrived in DunBroch, but Emma had wheedled and so now here she is, looking for her employer in taverns across the port.

“Hey, fuck you too!”

And there she is. Mulan sighs, heading in her direction. The barkeep noticed her when she entered and he looks at her now, “She with you?” He asks, gruff, “Been causing a ruckus, that one.”

“Unfortunately,” Mulan grimaces, “I will take her off your hands. Has she paid?”

He laughs, “Yeah. Yeah she’s paid. Get her outta here.”

Damnit, Mulan thinks as she grabs Emma, that better not be her wages.

“Mulan, buddy,” Emma slurs, not even sobering in the cold night air, she’s so drunk, “I’ve got an idea.”

“The last time you said that we ended up chased out of three provinces with our pictures on wanted posters across the county.” Mulan bodily drags Emma out of the tavern, “Why did you drink so much?”

“Can’t remember. Think that was the point. Mulan, my idea. Let’s do it.” Emma says, drowsiness seeping into her voice.

Mulan sighs, “What’s your idea, Emma?”

“You can’t- you can’t- you need magic to do magic with magic.” Emma says.

“What?” She kicks open the door to the inn and steers them toward the stairs.

“Magic!” Emma yells, arm not around Mulan’s shoulder flailing, “We need magic.” They nearly fall down the stairs because Emma certainly isn’t holding her own weight up.

“Magic’s trouble. I’m not getting anywhere near that and neither should you. What do you need magic for, anyway?” She drops Emma unceremoniously into one of the beds in their inn room.

Emma appears to be non-responsive. Mulan stops to make sure she’s still breathing. “Damnit, Emma.” She mutters, “If you’ve drunken away my payment so help me-”

“Yeah,” Emma says in the happy tone of the drunk, “but it’s okay. You don’t care about that anyway.”

“Like hell I don’t-”

“Nah, you just needed a purpose. Something to fix the heartbreak. I know these things. I’m good at people.” Emma mumbles, and then she is asleep.

Mulan has no words.

\---

Emma wakes up hungover and Mulan has no sympathy, throwing open the window to let the bright sunlight stream in.

“Damnit, Mulan, close the damn window.”

“No. It’s your own fault for drinking so much. Now sit up and pay attention.”

Emma does not sit up, but she does peek one eye through her hand to let Mulan know that she’s listening.

“You drank away all your money last night, like an idiot.”

“Hey!-”

“I’m talking.” Mulan barrels through, “You have no money with which to pay me for my continued services. You also have no money with which to pay me for my services rendered thus far. The way I see it, you owe me, Emma Swan, and you’re stuck with me until you’ve settled the debt.”

Mulan waits. Some breaks run deep, but Mulan has always done well with purpose. She doesn’t know what demons haunt Emma, but perhaps they share a forebear with her own.

Emma is silent and Mulan wonders if Emma even remembers anything about last night. “Thanks.” Emma finally says, quiet.

“Figure if I let you out of my sight I’ll never see my money,” Mulan grumbles, “Now get up, get dressed, and go find a bathhouse. You smell of booze and other drunkards. And tell me where we’re going now.”

Emma whines a protest but eventually obliges, if only at a dead snail’s pace. “I’m thinking Agrabah,” she says, “I hear that the riches overflow from the ground and run like the rivers do.”

Mulan keeps a suspicious gaze on her.

“What?” Emma asks, “Something in my teeth?”

“Tell me why you really want to go.” She demands, “You’re conveniently leaving out that Agrabah is also the land of the Jinn. Magic, Emma. Worse, magic and tricksters. Neither are good and together they spell disaster. You tell me or we don’t go. You owe me that much.”

Emma sighs, “Eventually, okay? I promise. I just, I need some time.”

Mulan finally relents, “I don’t like this.” She finally says, grudging.

“Yeah, neither do I."

\---

“Are we there yet?” Emma asks.

Mulan sighs, “No, Emma. The answer has not changed since you asked me last, no more than two hours ago. We will arrive in DunBroch when we do.”

Emma groans, “But when?”

“Another day, perhaps, at our current pace.” She glares, “It would have been faster, were you able to ride.”

“Your horse just doesn’t like me!” Emma defends.

“Khan does not care, Emma.”

“That you’re aware of – for all we know Khan has opinions on everyone you and the opinion is ‘fuck you’.” She argues.

Mulan sighs, long and suffering. She isn’t paid enough for this.

\---

Emma descends, deeper and deeper into the catacombs. The light of day fades away, leaving only the ominous shadows thrown by her torch. No hint of life stirs down here, not even the remains of cobwebs lining the walls.

She shivers, latent terror skittering on her spine, but soldiers on. The stairs wind one way, then the next, and she would fear becoming lost forever were there more than one path. Finally, finally, she reaches the end – a hallway of dirt. She inches forward, slow and wary of traps.

“ _Go down into the catacombs,” he instructs, “There will be a door and behind that door will be a ring. Touch nothing save for the door and the ring.”_

“ _A ring?” She asks, confused._

“ _You will know it when you see it.” He assures, “Bring that back to me and I will reward you handsomely. Fail and, well, no one will ever notice or care that you disappeared, will they?”_

_Emma swallows the breath she’d been holding and takes the torch from him before entering._

The door remains silent as she shoves it open, as if someone has kept it well-oiled. She expects more dirt and darkness, not the light that blinds her. She throws her hands up to shield her eyes on reflex, fear spiking. When nothing happens, she hazards a look-

Gold and jewels piled high to reach a ceiling she can barely see, as far as her eyes can see, so much of it that the light from her torch refracts endlessly. Topiaries litter the walls and upon closer inspection, she finds that they are cast of precious metals as well and their fruits are jewels like rubies and sapphires so large it seems impossible. The walls of the room might as well be gold. She scans the room until, there, in a corner only slightly less dazzling than the rest of the room, a pedestal and atop the pedestal, the ring.

She approaches, still wary, but nothing happens. The ring itself appears trivial, its dulled bronze stubbornly aged and refusing to gleam like the rest of the room. It seems a small thing to come all this way for when the rest of the room exists. Still, she pockets it. It’s none of her concern, really.

Picking her way out, she passes close to one of the topiaries, its fruits swinging in her face. She stops to admire it and her eyes settle on a particularly large jewel, glittering all the colors of the rainbow and then some. Her hands itch and, well, who would know if she took just one?

“ _Why can’t you get it?” Emma demands as she peers down. Not enough light filters in and the stairs lead down into absolute darkness._

_He makes a sound, like he can’t decide how to best avoid answering the question, “Let’s just say the previous owner and I...had a disagreement. The catacombs have been enchanted_ _to keep me out_ _and these enchantments have lasted longer than their caster. I’m here to claim some no longer claimed property.”_

The moment her fingers wrap around the jewel, she knows she’s made a terrible mistake. It crumbles to dust and dirt, spilling over her hand. The tree it came from too crumbles into decay and like disease, it spreads until the room dissolves into the shadows she had expected.

Worse, the door thuds shut behind her with a hollow sound and refuses to open no matter how desperately she pulls at it.

Emma quashes her rising panic, swallows back the bile in her throat, and forces her breathing to even out. In, out, in out, until she can think straight again. She cannot go back. Raising the torch as high as she can, she appraises the entire room. Only the pedestal remains, the rest having been an elaborate illusion. There, across the way, once hidden by the glamor, is another door.

She crosses the room. After all, she cannot go back.

“ _It’s locked.” She tells him. He had led them through the city by its alleys and back roads until they reached a cemetery that sat vigilant between the city and the forest. She hadn’t been in this city long, but a tavern’s lips are loose and even she knew that the locals avoided the area if they could._

_The fair folk’ll steal you away, they whisper._

“ _So it is.” He agrees, “We’ll just have to open it.” And with a flick of his hand, the doors fling themselves open, screaming as they tear themselves away from their hinges before crumpling to the side._

_She startles, then, “Magic. You’re a sorcerer.”_

_He hums a noise of consideration, “Of sorts, yes, I suppose you could refer to me as such.” Clapping his hands together, he pulls them apart to reveal a torch for her in one hand which he then lights it with a snap of his free hand. “Now then, shall we?”_

Emma throws her shoulder into this door with all her might and it groans as it reluctantly opens, edge digging into the ground the entire way. The air stirs, sluggish with musk and rot, and she nearly heaves. She takes one last fortifying breath, careful to breathe in behind her, throws her torch in front of her-

And then she heaves.

No illusion keeps this room. She thinks she’s stumbled upon a menagerie, or what once was one, at least. Now, its little more than a collection of destroyed cages and animal remains, some chewed to the bone, others rotting and putrid. She realizes with growing horror that whatever these creatures once were, they were magical in origin because that one, in the corner she was focusing on to ease the nausea, that one looks like a centaur carcass.

Emma tears her eyes away from the morbid scene and onto the next one, following the trail of bodies and caked blood on the floor until she sees, like some kind of perverse crowning display in the room, a pile of bones. On which crouches a creature, appearing humanoid in shape, chewing on what appears to be an arm.

“Ah, so you’ve finally arrived.” It says, looking up at her. Sort of. When it does, she sees that its eyes have been stitched shut.

Emma officially burns through the last of her ability to cope with all of this and proceeds to faint.

“ _Do I have a choice?” She finally acquiesces._

“ _If it makes you feel better to believe you did, then yes.” He tells her. “But I’ll tell you a secret. We’re all just playing our parts.”_

_And then he laughs, a high-pitched and giggling sound that stutters in her body until it settles in her bones, cold and insidious._

When she comes to, the creature, which she had sincerely hoped she had imagined, is now crouched over her, holding her torch over her face and staring. In so far as something with no eyes can stare. This close, she can see every stitch, like someone had taken thread and needle to skin that then scarred over. Were it not for that, she would have mistaken it for a small girl. Perhaps it once was a small girl. She closes her eyes, wills all this to be a hallucination, and then opens them again. “Fuck.” she manages.

“Hello.” She says again, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Really?” Emma asks, because what else can she say in this situation.

“Yes. I think you are my last deed.”

Gods, Emma thinks, this is how she dies. A last meal for this creature.

“I thought,” she continues, “when I gave him my eyes, that it would be the end of my burden. But once you’ve beheld a truth, you must see it through, and I had already seen you.”

“Can I get up?” Emma asks. It draws away and offers her a hand. She does not take it. She does take the torch back though and is grateful for the small mercy that it remains lit. It’s probably a magical light, now that she thinks about it. It was magically lit, after all.

“Um.” she says because she still has no idea what’s happening but maybe she won’t eat her.

“Oh! How rude of me,” she says, “I haven’t introduced myself – I am, was, a Seer, someone cursed with Sight. You are, of course, Emma Swan. I saw you in the threads of Fate and us meeting in my future.”

Emma has met oracles before – they’ll often wander the same streets as her, claiming to tell the future for a price. They’ll often also join Emma after the streets have thinned out to laugh about the gullible nobles they met that day.

“Did you by any chance see how I was going to get out of here?” She jokes weakly.

“Yes.” she says, “I tell you after I tell you about your destiny. But you have to be willing to hear it. Otherwise I don’t tell you how you escape, you do not escape, and then we both die here in this room. Sometimes I die first and you eat me. Then you go mad.”

“Oh.”

“But usually you die first and I eat you.” She offers in consolation.

“Oh.”

“Would you like to hear your destiny?”

“Yes, please” Emma says hurriedly, because the absurdity of this situation is threatening her sanity, “And then the way out, quickly.”

“You die.”

“Wha-”

“Not here. But in your future. Every human dies, of course, but some deaths matter more than others, yours being one of them. Although I suppose it would be more accurate to say that the circumstances leading to your death are the important parts.” Her smile is wane and grim, “Your actions will ultimately lead to your death. In doing so, you will save many people and most importantly, you’ll save her.”

Emma can’t think of anyone she’d be willing to die for but she’s not going to mention it because she really just needs to get out of here before she actually dies. “Uh, okay.” She says, “Is that it?”

“Yes, Emma, that’s it.”

“Now what?” Emma asks.

The once-Seer smiles at her, “Now,” she says, “I think I die. I can remember no more of my future.”

“That’s not how it works. It’s the future. You’re not supposed to remember it.” Emma feels the need to point out.

“No, you’re not.” she agrees, “But I did, even if that’s not how it’s supposed to work. You’ll want to follow the river.”

The once-Seer, now just a mere human child and mortal with it, nestles herself into the pile of bones and closes her eyes. There is a look of peace on her face, and then she dies.

Emma thinks she should go find that river while she’s still numb, before her sanity makes good on its threats and leaves her.

\---

When Emma is thirteen, she meets a man.

“Hello, Emma,” he says, the sound of oil and honey, “I have a deal for you.”

“How do you know my name?” She asks, suspicious. She has only been in this town for a day or two and now must make plans to leave.

“I know many things,” he tells her, “For instance, I know that you’re not idling here waiting for your parents like all these good folk assume. I know,” he says, leaning in, “that in your pocket is a purse that doesn’t quite belong to you now, does it?”

She tenses, about to bolt-

“Ah, dearie, don’t go running now. I hear the guards don’t take kindly on thieves here, especially not ones with bounties in other counties, and as good as you are, even you can’t walk through locked gates, can you?”

She grits her teeth, “What do you want?”

The man smiles crookedly, “I need you to retrieve something for me. Nothing terribly dangerous about it, should you follow my precise instructions. Do it and you’ll be rewarded with your weight in gold. Think about it, Emma, no more stealing purses in towns until one day you’re caught and chased out. Or worse. You could live like a lady for the rest of your days, if you wanted to! Or you could stay here until the guards catch you and hang you.”

He punctuates his offer with a dramatic flourish of his hand and a deep bow, “I leave the choice entirely up to you.”

Now, Emma meets a man when she is thirteen. That is at least seven years since she learned that anything that seems too good always is. The years have done nothing to dissuade her from this notion.

“Why me?” She finally asks.

“Well, why not you?” He asks back.

\---

True to the Seer’s words, Emma emerges from the catacombs by way of a river that forcibly drags her in its tow until it spits her out in one of its streams. The fisherman who pulls her out thinks she’s a mermaid at first, then revises his opinion to ‘insane’ when she tries to tell him that she came from an enchanted catacomb where a possibly not actually human young girl told her how she was going to die.

In retrospect, these were probably things she shouldn’t have given the weight of being spoken out loud to, but she’d also just been tossed around in a river after escaping an enchanted catacomb where she’d met a once-Seer who told her how she was going to die.

And somewhere, Rumpelstiltskin crows his delight at the future, newly birthed from a story.


	8. chapter vi. destiny

“Ah, Regina, so nice of you to drop by again. How did it go?”

“I feel like you’re fucking with us, considering that you’ve got us surrounded by some very angry looking dogs.” Emma quips.

“And you’ve brought a friend! How lovely.” the witch of the animals exclaims.

“Lady Cruella,” Regina says, “is such a welcome necessary? I had thought we were better acquainted than this.”

Cruella makes a dismissive gesture, “Oh, you can’t be too careful these days. You can never know who’s out to get you. You’ll be good, won’t you?” Another wave of her hand and while her dogs don’t retreat, they stop growling so much, “Up, up. I haven’t got all day. Things to do, towns to terrorize, you know how it is.” She leans forward, an almost manic glint in her eyes, “Now then, tell me, Regina, have you brought the golden horse?”

Regina glances uneasily at Emma, who just shrugs. She’s still trying to figure out how she went from ‘leaving at the next town’ to ‘being held hostage by Dalmatians’ and she’ll consider it a victory if they get out of here with all their limbs intact.

“ _Closest town, per your demands, Princess Emma.” Regina says, tone a pitch more sarcastic than it needs to be, “Will you be needing anything else?”_

“ _Really? You’re just going to leave me here? In a literal one-horse town? How the fuck am I going to get out?”_

_Regina shrugs, “However you want to; it’s not my problem. I’m sure the forest would make a deal. Red?”_

_Red looks up, “Sure. You got a horse, Emma? Not the golden horse. That’s ours.”_

_Emma thinks, “Ah, I co-”_

“ _You will not steal this town’s horse.” Regina glowers._

“ _I’d take a favor too.” Red offers._

“ _Nuh uh, I know how that shit works. None of this favor trading.”_

_Regina, limited reserves of patience already worn threadbare by their days of traveling alongside a petulant Red and an Emma who incessantly chatters but rarely says anything, throws her hands up and snaps, “Then walk!” before turning around and riding off with unnecessary dramatic flair, Red trailing after her._

_So Emma does. She follows the path that Red and Regina leave because she actually doesn’t know where she’s going so it’s a good an idea as any. The dust clouds travel farther and farther away from her until they stop moving. She’s beaming when she catches up to them, waiting on the side of the road._

“ _Get on the horse, Emma.” Regina sighs._

“ _Okay, I feel like we should discuss our methods of transportation because as you clearly and frequently saw, horses and I do-”_

“ _The damn horse. Now.” Regina’s tight voice filters through her grit teeth._

_Emma gets on the damn horse, which patiently waits for her to fumble around before coming to seat._

Oh, right Maybe she should have just walked. Red was the smart one, she thinks, considering it’s her and Regina trapped here with Red somewhere else.

“Yes.” Regina finally says, jarring her out of her thoughts.

Cruella claps her hands together and smiles, all wickedness and glee, “Excellent! I see I entrusted the right person with this task. Well, where is it?”

“Elsewhere.” Regina says, “and nowhere closer until I see the firebird.”

Cruella’s moods swing fast and far, a look of boredom replacing her earlier interest, “Ah yes, the firebird. It’s here, somewhere-” And her eyes glow unnaturally green. The dogs, which had been wary and aggressive before, whine and tuck their tails.

Before long, the room erupts into a warm glow as the firebird swoops in, landing on Cruella’s outstretched hand. “I haven’t the faintest clue what you want with this thing. The firebird is supposed to sing the most beautiful songs in all of the realms, but I haven’t heard a single sound come out of its mouth since I captured it. It’s more trouble than it’s worth, quite frankly, but it’s yours – for the horse.”

Again, Regina hesitates, and Emma nudges her harder than necessary to remind her that they are in a witch’s seat of power surrounded by her many lethal animals. “Of course, Lady Cruella,” Emma says, when Regina doesn’t respond, “The golden horse is right outside.”

Cruella waves a lazy hand, “Well, lead the way then.”

“What are you doing?” Emma hisses, “just give her the damn horse so we can get out of here.”

“Look at the firebird,” Regina whispers back, “look at what she’s done to it. What do you think she’ll do to the golden horse?”

Emma glances back and she isn’t sure what Regina wants her to see. It’s not like she’s seen a lot of firebirds in her life to know what she’s looking for. “I mean it’s not dead, so that’s good, right?”

“Look again, does it look like it’s living to you?”

Emma looks back again and so maybe the firebird curls in on itself, apathetic to its surroundings. Maybe it is small with muteness, even though its light should brighten the entire room.

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you made deals with witches.” Emma grumbles, although the stirrings of guilt make themselves known.

\---

Red is waiting for them at the end of the witch’s lands. She circles the gilded cage, her eyes sharp as they track the firebird. “What now, Regina?”

And Regina tells her, as she always has, “That is between me and the firebird.”

Emma watches Red stay a respectable distance from Regina as she dismounts from Rocinante, making her way into the underbrush. She moves slowly, almost reverently, like the firebird holds her future, fragile and tenuous.

“What’s she doing?” Emma asks, “Why did she need the firebird so badly?”

“The firebird is the holder of destiny, Emma. They say its songs are the most beautiful in the realm because they’re the most true. To ask the firebird the right question is to know of your future, etched in stone by a hand greater than yours.”

Emma frowns at this, “What is she going to ask it?”

“I don’t know. She’s never told me. It has always been between her and the firebird.”

“Don’t you think this might be a bad idea?”

Red rolls her shoulders back, “Maybe. But it’s her mistake to make.”

“That’s bullshit.” Emma announces.

“That’s part of being mortal.” Red points out, “Wouldn’t you like to know what part you play in the higher motions of the world? To know you have a place and purpose in this world?”

“Maybe, but I’d rather decide those for myself.” Emma says before she stalks off after Regina.

\---

“Hey.” Emma calls out.

Regina has been staring at the firebird in its cage and starts when she hears Emma’s voice so close. “What are you doing here?” She asks, peevish, “I thought I made it clear that I was to be left alone.”

“Actually, you just walked off and made assumptions.” Emma reminds her, “But I’m not here to argue the details.”

“You shouldn’t be here at all. Leave.” She goes back to staring at the firebird pensively. “I won’t ask again.”

Emma raises both her hands, palms out, even though Regina can’t see the gesture, “Hey, I just, I wanted to say something. Before you did your thing with the firebird.”

“Spit it out then.”

Emma tries to find a place to sit next to Regina, but Regina picked a stump so Emma has to settle for the floor. “So.” She says, fidgeting with her hands and unsure of how to word this, “I fucked up once.”

Regina scoffs, “Only once?”

“Nah, but only this one time matters right now. If you don’t interrupt me, it’ll go faster.”

Regina stays silent, waiting for Emma to continue. “I made a deal. Well, I mean technically, I was forcibly coerced into making a deal, but anyway. I made a deal, right? And, it wasn’t a good one, but, all things considered, I guess it was okay-”

“You’re rambling.” Regina says.

Emma thinks for a moment, both of them staring at the firebird who does not deign to stare back.

“Once you’ve beheld a truth, you must see it through.” She finally says.

“What?”

“Something someone told me once. A once-Seer. I didn’t know those existed but after what I’ve seen, I can believe. Red told me that the firebird is a keeper of destiny. That it tells of truth while it sings the most beautiful songs in all the realms.”

“Red isn’t lying.”

“Yea, I got that. We did just risk death by dalmatian mauling to trade a golden horse for that firebird. But, Regina, you can’t give it back once you’ve taken it. Is this really what you want? To let something else, a goddamn bird of all things, decide what your future’s going to be? What’s got you so desperate you’d be willing to hand that responsibility to something else?”

“I made a mistake, Emma. I don’t know how to fix it.”

Regina’s breath catches in her throat and when she looks at Emma, Emma realizes that she’s crying. Regina, who can ride a ship carried by the North Wind into towers without a care, who faces down dragons and witches without fear, who has always been so strong in her conviction, is crying. Not with abandon, they are not that sort of traveling companions, but it is enough vulnerability that Emma feels her own breath catch hard in her throat.

“Okay.” Emma says, soft as she can, “That’s okay. We can figure it out, okay?” She places a tentative hand on Regina’s, “Whatever you did, we can fix it. And whatever you decide now, we’ll be there for you, me and Red, yeah? Can’t get rid of us that easily. No matter how many horses you force me on.” And Emma tries an easy smile.

She’s rewarded with a small smile back from Regina and a hiccup of a laugh. It’s enough, Emma thinks. Regina looks like she’s going to say something, but doesn’t have the words for it. Emma waits, surprisingly patient. In the underbrush, with only the quiet rustle of the forest around them, it feels like this moment could last forever and they wouldn’t have minded.

“You guys okay? No one dead?”

Or until Red finds them. “Shit.” Emma curses as she falls back in surprise. Regina hastily wipes her at her teary eyes. “I’ll just, I’ll go get her out of here, yeah?” Emma says and slips away. Regina nods gratefully.

“There you are!” Red finds Emma, “Where’s Regina?”

“Uh, doing her firebird thing. She’s fine. I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine. Let’s go wait for her outside.”

“You’re being weird, Emma.”

“And you’re a talking wolf so I don’t think you have any room to judge!”

\---

As the sun sets, the quiet of the forest is interrupted by what Emma thinks is a bird cry at first. The squawking echoes rough and halting, like its speaker was becoming accustomed to its voice once more. Another cry, like a harp this time, the notes drifting in their cadence, surer in their tone. And then, loud and crisp-

“Holy shit.” Emma breathes.

“Yeah.” Red agrees.

Regina emerges without the gilded cage, without the firebird. Only when she has mounted Rocinante does she speak, “Well? Are you two going to stand there mouths gaping like fish out of water?”

“Uh.” Emma says, still reeling from the firebird’s song.

Red snaps out of her reverie faster, “You let it go, Regina.”

“Of course I did,” Regina says, “a cage, gilded or not, is no place for a firebird.” And if her voice breaks a bit, if her eyes are still somewhat red, neither Red nor Emma mention it.

\---

“What did she tell you?” Regina will remember to ask her, later when they’ve survived their latest escapade.

“Nothing worth the words.” Emma will say back. They will sit in silence for a spell, watching each other under the pretense of watching the night sky.

“I didn’t ask it anything.” Regina will admit to her. “Maybe you were right. My destiny should be my own.”

“Destiny’s a chump you should punch if you meet anyway.” Emma will say. Regina will laugh at this, full-bodied and bright. “We’ll figure it out. Together, yeah?” Emma will ask, and if there’s some self-doubt in her voice, Regina says nothing of it.

And Regina will tell her, “I suppose I’m stuck with you.”

She will say it with mirth and Emma will grin, thinking of firebirds free of gilded cages.

\---

Emma insists they camp for the night. “It’s dark and who knows what sort of big and scary fucky things come out at night.”

“I’m the biggest and scariest thing.” Red says but Emma adamantly refuses and Regina is too tired to care one way or the other so they make camp.

Emma does not actually sleep, waiting until she can hear Red’s whuffling snores before she steals away. She can’t hear Regina’s breathing over Red snoring, but Regina had begged away early and hasn’t moved since. Under the cover of the moonlit forest, she slips toward to the witch’s castle to steal the golden horse back.

Damn Regina, she thinks, for making her feel guilty about this horse and damn this horse, for being less of a murderous hellbeast than Mulan’s and invoking her guilt. She hops the first (decorative) wall, scales a(n also decorative) trellis, and picks a laughably decrepit gate to get to the gardens. Emma doesn’t know this castle’s plans like she should for any other heist, but it’s not like her thefts are ever from magical beings.

Those tend to be one-time affairs, she thinks morbidly.

Winding through the gardens, careful to keep close to the topiaries that line the path, she searches for the stables. They can’t be far – stables’ve got a distinctive smell. She encounters a startlingly low number of patrols, namely none. Were it a normal theft she’d be worried, but it isn’t and she’s more worried about getting the horse out. Damnit she’s going to have to ride the horse out, isn’t she.

She hears a faint disgruntled whinny and sighs in relief. At least Cruella hasn’t eaten the horse or something. Who knows what she wanted with it. Drawing closer, a voice peters through.

“Move, you twice-damned horse! I’m trying to save you here! Move!” a guard says, pulling at the reins.

The horse does not move, but Emma knows that voice.

“Regina?” She asks in a loud whisper. The guard turns her head, revealing Regina under her apparent disguise.

“Emma?” She asks, “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing? Stealing the horse before Cruella does something terrible to it! But this damned thing won’t move. Get over here and help me!”

Ah, so they had the same plan then. Maybe Regina can get them out of here, Emma thinks hopefully. She trots over and the horse meets her halfway to chew on her hair.

“This is gross.” Emma says.

“Shut up and help me get it out of here.” Regina says back. The horse lets itself be led by Emma, who can’t help but stick her tongue out at Regina. Regina kicks her in retaliation.

“Huh. I expected...I don’t know, more?” Emma mentions conversationally. “More guards or something.”

“Patrols thinned out about an hour ago. Only two were in the garden at the time.” Regina tells her, “They probably won’t wake up.” Regina doesn’t bother to follow the path, leading them straight across. She must have studied and memorized the patrols, Emma realizes, somewhat impressed. For a bandit who couldn’t pick a lock, Regina might make a decent thief still.

Then the alarms ring and Emma sighs in resignation. “So who do you think’s to blame for jinxing it?” She says.

Panic flares in Regina’s face, “What?”

“I mean, I thought there’d be more, you thought they wouldn’t wake up. I guess the alarms rang after you said it so it’s your fault.” She looks up at the horse and grimaces.

“How are you so calm?” Regina asks, looking furtively around.

“Eh. I figured I’d have to ride out of here when I broke in. Was it you who broke the second lock? Sloppy, Regina.” She bodily hauls herself onto the horse. “You coming?”

Regina hesitates, “I don’t think your horse likes me.” She says lamely.

“Okay Regina,” Emma humors amidst the blaring alarms, “just stay here and get captured then because the golden horse doesn’t like you. When has anything’s opinion of you ever stopped you anyway? Get on the damn horse and help me get us out of here with some of our dignity left. Can’t believe we got caught. Did you even tie up the guards?”

“Apparently not to your satisfaction” Regina grumbles as she pulls herself up with much more grace than Emma. The golden horse makes a pawing motion of discontent but Emma pats its mane, “Be good.”

“We’ll have to work on that.” she says to Regina, “Proper knotwork is always a good thing to know when you’re stealing things from people who hire guards with pointy weapons. And y’know, in general.” She nudges the golden horse forward and Regina winces.

“Gods, is this how you’ve been riding this entire time? How has this horse put up with this?”

“Hey, weren’t you the one who couldn’t get on the golden horse without me?”

Regina has no response to this and Emma is basking in her victory when Regina leans into her and grabs the reins. Emma immediately stiffens. “Uh. What are you doing?”

“Well I’m on the horse now, aren’t I? We’ll never get out of here alive if I let you handle the horse. Pay attention, Emma, you might learn something.”

It’s awkward. Emma should probably be behind Regina if they wanted this to work but they’d already committed and there are angry guards coming after them, so now they’re stuck like this. With Regina pressed close against Emma so as to see past her and properly maneuver them away from certain death. Breath ghosting harsh on her ear. Emma isn’t sure if the pounding of her heart’s from the ride, the sure death chasing after them, or Regina’s body, so warm and so very close.

Emma almost breathes a sigh of relief when they clear that decorative wall. They’re clear. She’s clear. Cruella wouldn’t have guards posted this far out.

But she’d send her dogs after them. Not for the first time that day, Emma wonders how her life has led to this point – riding a golden horse out of a witch’s castle while being chased by her murderous dalmatians.

They thunder past Red, who wakes with a yelp.

“Run, Red!” Regina yells behind her. Emma can almost imagine Red’s confused face as she looks back to see the dalmatians before turning to catch up.

“The fuck did you do?” She asks while keeping stride. “You stole it?”

“Yes!” Regina says, breathless behind Emma. She gets it; this is Regina’s thing in the same way that there’s always a high that comes with a theft pulled off right. Regina’s good, rides like she was born to it, even if she has to manage Emma in front of her too.

Red takes the lead, winding them through the folds of the forest to lose the dalmatians. Regina easily follows and before the sun has a chance to rise, the baying behind them fades away. Emma breathes out that sigh of relief.

“Fuck.” She says. “Maybe we don’t make deals with witches and then steal from them next time.”

Regina looks at Emma and she’s absolutely vibrant, unable to manage her usual sardonic tone, “Oh, Emma, live a little. This horse is wasted on you - I hope you learned something about how to properly ride.”

Emma doesn’t think Regina would appreciate what she was learning. “This and that.” She says, “Where’d you learn to jump a horse like that?” and she lets Regina talk through the sun rising.

\---

“You were supposed to leave the horse with Cruella and Emma in that town.” Red tells her, “You said we weren’t going to let this continue.”

Regina runs a hand through her hair, tired after the adrenaline, “What was I going to do?”

“Not that!”

“I couldn’t leave either of them!” Regina defends, “Emma was going to follow us either way and Cruella was surely going to ruin that horse! What would you have me do?”

Red sighs, “Not that. One or the other, perhaps. Preferably neither. But what’s done is done, I suppose.” she says, “Let’s see about surviving it.”

Regina leans against a tree trunk, too exhausted to counter and Red pads up to sit next to her. Regina scratches behind her ears. “I’m still mad at you.” Red says. “But I understand. We’re truly in the center of it now, Regina. We’ll have to see it through to the end.”

“Okay,” Regina says, “okay.”


	9. chapter vii. the widening gyre

Red wakes them up in the morning.

Emma groans, “No. Go away.”

Red drools on her face and Emma jumps with a noise of disgust, “Red!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up all night doing unscrupulous things!”

“Ugh.” Emma wipes at her face, “How are you so awake anyway?” She asks Regina, who looks like she rose with the damn sun and is already breaking down camp.

“You want to get woken up twice like that?”

“Point.” Emma mutters, “Next time I’ll remember to sleep in a tree.”

“It’s horrible for your back.” Regina tells her, “I tried. And Red has surprisingly good aim. Anyway, Red rarely pushes, but it’s a good idea to listen to her when she does.”

“Where are we going anyway?” Emma asks.

“To meet with the Keeper of the Enchanted Forest who lives in the heart of the forest.” Red says.

“Okay? And they’ll be able to help Regina with her thing?”

Red demurs, “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly like ‘we don’t know if she can help’ or not exactly like ‘that’s not why we’re going’?” Emma asks.

Red’s ears flatten and she says nothing. Regina steps in to say, “We were going to have to tell her eventually, Red, with the way things happened.”

“Tell me what?” Emma demands, body already tensing for a confrontation. “What have you kept from me?”

“You’re riding the golden horse.” Red finally admits, which only confuses Emma more because everyone already knew that.

“Yes? I’m riding a golden horse that apparently hates Regina which, incidentally, is hilarious.”

Red shakes her head, “No, no, not _a_ golden horse, _the_ golden horse. A horse of power, Emma. They shouldn’t have riders, Emma, not anymore. It heralds an age of heroes, and only a hero of legend can ride one. It’s a sign that you’re fated for something great, Emma.”

Emma opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “You can’t possibly thi- Regina, back me up here!”

Regina sighs, “Remember when we were at Lady Maleficent’s castle? She told me that the wheels of destiny were turning again and that we would have a part to play. I didn’t think anything of it until Red told me about the horse of power and what it meant that you could ride it.”

She shifts uncomfortably, “It’s a lot of coincidence to ignore, Emma.”

“So, what?” Emma’s voice is shrill, “You think I’m some sort of hero? Like, King Arthur or something? I’m going to ride in, waving Excalibur, and save the world?”

Red tries, “I mean-”

“And you!” Emma rounds on Regina, “Believing this bullshit! I thought you understood! I thought that’s why you let the firebird go! Destiny and fate are fuckers who’ll screw you and leave you to sort the mess alone. And I thought, I thought we were going to say ‘fuck that shit!’”

“Emma-” Regina says but Emma’s anger looks like its going to boil over into tears. She turns away before it has a chance, tugging the reins of the golden horse free and then mounting it.

“Fuck that shit.” She says, more to herself than them, “I’m saying that. And fuck you if you’re not going to too.” And then she’s off.

“Damnit.” Regina says.

“You should go after her.” Red tells her.

“And say what?”

“I don’t know. You’ll figure it out.”

“Damnit.” Regina says again.

\---

“And you thought it was a bad idea to go back for Rocinante.” Regina tells her when she finally finds her, back in that one horse town. “The tavern, really? Here?”

Emma mouth twitches slightly, “You can always count on people to have their priorities straight.” She raises her tankard, “Didn’t know where else to go. Figured I could finally get some quiet here to sort it out.”

Regina sits down next to Emma, tugging her tankard away. She eyes the contents suspiciously before taking a long draw. “You ran away.” She says.

“Guess so.” She reclaims her drink, “Damnit. Did you have to drink so much? I paid good money for this.”

Regina raises an unbelieving eyebrow. “Fine, someone did.” Emma amends. She doesn’t quite look at Regina, preferring to stare into her drink.

Regina waits. Emma spooks, this she’s come to realize. Emma will manage both sides of a conversation at the same time, but never gives anything away she can’t bear to give, holds her demons close. She drifts, never staying long enough for something to lay claim to her, will run if something tries. But if Regina gives Emma space, forces her to face the issue but on her own terms, Emma’ll give. So Regina waits.

“I didn’t want it to be true.” Emma says to her drink, “Why me, right?”

“Well, why not you?” Regina asks.

Emma laughs bitterly, “Fuck. You know, that’s exactly what he asked. Maybe he’s in on this too, wouldn’t that be great?”

“I’m sorry?”

Emma signals for another round, “Yeah, we’re going to need to be more fucked than this.”

\---

They’re on their third round by the time Emma speaks again, “A sorcerer found me, a few years back. He told me to get a ring for him and in return, he wouldn’t call the guards on me. So I went because I had no choice. And I got the ring.”

She gestures with her left hand and Regina notices the bronze ring on her index finger.

“In the getting of it, I was told my future. I’m supposed to die, Regina. Not even on accident, I’m going to die because I choose to or something.” She laughs again, still bitter, “What kind of a choice is that?”

“Emma-”

“I’ll tell you,” Emma cuts Regina off, “No choice at all. If I believe it, I’m going to die because destiny says I should or something.”

She tugs it off, “It doesn’t look like much, does it?”

Regina agrees – the ring looks like it’d barely fetch a meal in market.

“Here’s the secret - it holds a Jinn. You know of them? They’re denizens hailing from Agrabah, trapped inside objects. If you can claim one, the Jinn inside is compelled to give you three wishes. No more, no less, and rarely how you want them.”

Emma turns the ring between her fingers, “I didn’t know any of this at the time. But I made a wish anyway.” She smiles wistfully, “And like I said. You rarely get your wishes how you want them.”

She alternates between staring at her drink and staring at Regina. “What did you wish for?” Regina finally asks.

Emma sighs, “I wished that I wouldn’t meet my destiny. Better safe than sorry, right? I guess I must have believed enough to make it true.”

“And you know what?” She’s angry now, “It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Because apparently destiny can’t be changed and apparently I’m going to die anyway. So yeah, fuck the horse of power bullshit, fuck being a hero of legend, fuck all of it. I’m not going to let destiny tell me what the fuck I’m going to do.”

Regina doesn’t know what to say or do. Her best, and arguably only, friend is a three centuries old wolf who does not have any of these problems or any similar problems. Regina places a questioning hand on Emma’s shoulder and when Emma doesn’t protest, she pulls her into an awkward hug. “I’m sorry.” she says.

Emma grips at her with a desperate sort of strength and cries, silent and angry into her shoulder. Regina lets her.

“I think there’s something in my head.” Emma whispers, so quiet that Regina almost doesn’t catch it. “I think that’s what the Jinn did to me. I keep having dreams I can’t remember, but they never feel right.” Emma is talking more into Regina’s shoulder than to Regina by now, “I don’t know what to do, what do I do?”

Regina is silent for a moment. “I think we should go see the Keeper of the Enchanted Forest.”

Emma abruptly pulls away, “What? Are you fucking insane? Didn’t you just hear what I-”

“I mean,” Regina interrupts before Emma can work herself up to the point of storming out, “that running hasn’t done you any good. You ran and your horse of power still found you. Don’t give me that look – it’s your horse of power whether or not you choose to claim it. If you’re as trapped in this as you say you are, more knowledge will only benefit you.”

“I don’t want to die.” Emma finally says in defeat.

“Destiny is a chump you should punch if you ever meet, right?” Regina reminds her.

Emma laughs, all broken, “Yeah. Yeah it really is. Okay. Let’s go punch destiny in the face.”

\---

There’s someone leaning on the door frame when they exit.

“Finally!” She says, “I’ve been waiting out here for ages. I would have come inside but you guys looked like you were having a moment.”

Both Regina and Emma look at her, confused. She’s more limb than body, wears a bright red cloak, and her eyes shine of the hunter’s moon. It takes them a litter longer-

“Red?” Regina asks, surprised.

“Yes?”

“Red?” Emma echoes, more surprised. “I thought you were a talking wolf!”

“Oh please, Emma. Look at this town. They’re just looking for an excuse to gather in a mob, if only to break the monotony of their lives. I didn’t want to start a wolf hunt. That’d be a lot of inconvenient deaths.”

“No, that’s not- I thought you were a wolf!”

Red frowns, “No, I’m Red of the Forest. One of its Guardians, to be specific. We’re all shapeshifters. I haven’t used this form in a while though.”

She windmills her arms around and does what Emma thinks is a questionable imitation of a jig, “I’d forgotten how funny human limbs are when they move!”

“Stop that.” Regina hisses, horrified, “You look like a loon.”

Regina looks so aghast at Red and Red looks so unabashed and this situation is so ridiculous that Emma starts laughing and can’t stop. She’s apparently a hero of legend, she rides a horse of power, there’s something alien rattling in her mind, and her destiny is to die, but Red isn’t actually a wolf, she makes a terrible effort at being human, and Regina’s by her side holding her up because she might’ve had too much to drink.

Maybe things will be okay, she thinks, and she lets herself believe.

\---

Red skips around them as they leave. Slowly because Emma is still stumbling about somewhat drunk. Regina is only slightly better.

“Red.” Regina manages, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Red asks, guileless.

“That you were human too.”

“I’m a Guardian, Regina. What form I take doesn’t change that.”

Regina furrows her eyebrows at this, “Are you truly a wolf or a human then?”

Red pauses to turn back and look curiously at her, “Which do you think?”

“Both.” Then, “Neither. At the same time?” Regina is too drunk for this.

Red smiles, like she’d said the right thing. “Well, there you go.” And then she skips ahead of them once more.

“You have weird friends.” Emma mumbles.

“You’re my friend too.” Regina says back, “And Red’s your friend too.”

“Yes. That’s what I was saying. You have weird friends.”

Red has to lead Rocinante because neither Regina nor Emma are in fit state to ride proper. Regina clings onto Rocinante’s mane like she’s about to fall off because she’s too drunk for proper spatial awareness and Emma clings onto Regina like she’s about to fall off because she actually is about to fall off. They have to tie the reins of the golden horse to Emma’s wrist.

“You smell nice.” Emma says, head smushed into Regina’s back because the trees are spinning too much even taking into account that they’re moving.

“I do, don’t I?” Regina says, smug through her sleep-heavy voice.

“You guys are weird.” Red announces loudly. And then she speeds up, just to spite them, Emma’s sure. She’ll regret it when they have to stop for Emma to throw up, which will also lead to Regina throwing up. It’s a grand time for all parties involved.

\---

Red has the decency to let them sleep off at least some of their drunken stupor. She shakes them both awake and then dumps a waterskin on Emma when Emma tries to go back to sleep.

“Okay, okay,” Emma sputters, “I’m up.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Red asks.

“Probably not, but it’s still a long way to then. We’re off to see the Keeper of the Forest, right?” Emma says.

Red nods happily, “Yes! We’re going to see my Granny in the woods.”

“What.”

“The Keeper of the Forest. She’ll know more about this. She’s probably lived through it once or twice. Maybe even all of them. She’s pretty old!”

“No, I mean, Granny? How does that even work?”

Red looks confused, “Well, my mother is her daughter. That’s normally how it works.”

“I give up.” Emma says, finally deciding that she was going to have to ration out her sanity to make it last.

“Congratulations, you’re now an official member of this party.” Regina comments dryly.

“Hey, do you guys mind if I change?” Red asks. Emma looks over. Underneath her red cloak, she’s wearing a simple cotton dress. “Uh, no? I guess you’ll want something tougher for traveling, huh?”

Red stretches her arms and Regina can hear the crack of her joints. Without the haze of alcohol, she can see all the minor details Red’s missed. Her limbs are just a little too long, teeth a little too sharp, ears a little too pointed, eyes a little too knowing. Regina’s staring when the first bone breaks and an arm pops out of its socket.

“Oh what th-” Emma starts, “Oh fuck.” She breathes, “That’s what she meant.”

Regina brusquely turns Emma around because otherwise they’d both watch this in morbid horror and together they stare into the forest depths while behind them bones rearrange and sinew slithers into place.

Red bounds up to them, “That’s always annoying!” She says cheerfully, “The next time you angrily run off, can you do it into the forest?”

“I’ll, uh, keep this in mind.” Emma says honestly.

“Our lives are so fucking weird.” She whispers to Regina, who shrugs. “I thought you were used to it.” She says.

\---

“So I was trying to be polite.” Emma says, “Because you’re Red of the Forest, surely you know this land better than Regina or I could ever hope to. But uh, maybe we’re lost?”

“Of course not!” Red insists, “The forest just shifts, sometimes. You only need to find the right landmark.”

“You said that when the sun was still high.” Emma points out, “It’s starting to set now. We’re lost.”

“Maybe.” Red begrudges.

“Great.” Emma grumbles.

“Like you would have done better!”

“I would have! We’d be there and gone by now!”

“You don’t even know where we’re going!”

“You don’t either!”

“Children,” Regina interrupts, exasperated, “Let’s just make camp for the night. We can get our bearings tomorrow morning.”

Emma takes first watch. Maybe it’s just everything that’s happened, but she’s more on edge than normal. She twitches at the shadows of trees and keeps a cautious and tight grip on her dagger.

Something rustles and she jumps, “Fuck. Regina, wake up, there’s something moving!”

“Only the trees in the wind, Emma.” Regina says, sleep-slow.

Emma isn’t so sure, but Regina is already asleep again. She makes up her mind to double her vigilance, but her eyelids are so heavy. She’s about to let herself close her eyes, just for a moment, when she hears the snap of a branch. Jumping once again, she reaches for Red, “Red, Red! Get up! There’s something out there.”

“Just a frightened deer, Emma. Let me sleep.” Red whines.

This isn’t right, Emma thinks, mind foggy. She shouldn’t be this slow; Red and Regina have never been so stubborn to wake either. Stumbling to Regina’s pack, she grabs her bow and an arrow.

“Show yourself!” She yells out to the woods. She draws back and holds it. When a shadow shifts, she lets loose the arrow. She’s expecting it to pass through nothing, that she’s just tired and seeing things that aren’t there.

But she’s also not surprised when a hand reaches out of the shadows to catch the arrow.

“State your purpose, intruder.” The voice demands. Emma squints, trying to see better, but she can barely make out the voice’s head and hand, as though the rest of them was shrouded by the night itself. She’s so tired.

“Fuck.” It’s her last thought before she blinks and can’t open her eyes again.

\---

When Emma comes to, it’s to the sharp scent of charred flesh and mint. It makes her gag. Next to her, Regina and Red struggle awake as well.

“Ugh. Poppies?” Red asks, “Nasty things. I haven’t fallen for that in years.”

One of the riders steps forward, “What purpose have you in these lands? Speak quickly, for your lives depend on it.” she asks. Red’s ears perk up.

“Lady Marian?” Red says, still groggy as she blinks the sleep away, “Why does the Wild Hunt ride?”


	10. chapter viii. domains

“Is that you, Little Red? I thought as much, but it pays to be careful in these times. Much has changed since you left. I wish that we were meeting under better circumstances.” Lady Marian says.

“I didn’t leave.” Red says, guiltily, “This exchange’s just taking a little longer, that’s all.”

“Something you’re doing nothing to expedite.” Lady Marian remarks. “But that matters little now. What business have you back in the Forest?”

“We seek an audience with the Keeper of the Forest. I bring with me Emma, who rides upon a horse of power. You know what that means. An age of heroes is upon us.”

Lady Marian turns her attention first onto Regina, then toward Emma. “Yes, I see. This one has the stench of destiny around her. Very well. We will escort you – the Forest has not held safe passage for any travelers in the last year.”

“What’s happened?” Red asks as Emma and Regina scramble to make ready.

“The balance of power shifts, Little Red. Forces of dark origins threaten the land once more.” Lady Marian says. “I forget how young you are, sometimes, to have not lived through an age of darkness.”

“I’m three centuries old!” Red protests.

“Barely a child.” Lady Marian affirms, “Still, there is no need to worry. The Forest will endure, as it always does, and we of the Forest will survive along with it.”

“What about my friends?”

Lady Marian looks over at them, face inscrutable. “That remains to be seen.”

\---

“Granny!” Red exclaims, slipping past the riders of the Wild Hunt. Lady Marian lets her, amused. “Grandmother Keeper.” She greets, “By your leave.”

“May the Wild Hunt ride well.” the Keeper responds and Lady Marian bows. “Be careful, Little Red,” she warns before joining the rest of the dispersing riders, “You’ve found yourself caught in the storm of great change. I would hate for this to be our last meeting.”

“That you, Red?” the Keeper asks, “It’s been so long I’ve almost forgotten I ever had a granddaughter. Come and give me a proper hug.”

Emma winces as Red’s bones crack into a new form, wolfskin shedding to make way for her human guise.

“Don’t be silly – you’ve never forgotten anything.”

“And you’d do well to never forget that.” The Keeper looks up, as though noticing Emma and Regina for the first time, “You’ve brought outsiders into the forest heart.”

The Keeper of the Forest looks every bit an elderly woman, but Red has always reminded them of their shitty human vision. True to expectation, the Keeper invades Emma’s personal space with surprising agility. “You smell of magic.” She says. “And destiny.” Her eyes roam to the golden horse, “So you’re the herald of this age.”

“So they tell me,” Emma says, balking under the Keeper’s gaze. She kicks at the dirt, “Red said you could help.”

“That depends on what you’re asking for help with.”

“Escaping destiny.”

The Keeper is still watching her, “I’m afraid you’ve come a long way for nothing, if that’s what you sought. The magic of the Forest is old, true, but there are some forces even older than us, magic even we dare not tamper with.”

Emma deflates and Regina shifts closer to provide some support, but she looks equally crestfallen.

“You can’t do anything, Granny?” Red pleads.

The Keeper hums, “Perhaps. But nothing that can’t wait until after dinner. The Forest is old and remembers all; perhaps it may have some wisdom to share. And you-” she turns to Regina, “What further need do you have with the forest? Have you not kept my granddaughter away from her duties long enough?”

“Granny-”

“Red.” Regina interrupts before turning to the Keeper, “Red has always made her own choices and to blame me for her absence is to do her an injustice. I have asked nothing more of the Forest than to keep its accord with me.”

The Keeper looks at her for a long moment before nodding once and then turning away.

“She likes you.” Red whispers. Regina’s not sure what to think of that.

\---

The Keeper never stops watching Emma, her steely eyes always on her like a barn owl’s gaze. It’s unnerving. Even when they’ve started on dinner, Red wolfing down her meal to her left and Regina politely taking small bites out of hers. Emma ducks her head to stare at her plate and still she feels the weight of the Keeper’s gaze.

“What was your second wish?” The Keeper finally asks.

“I never made it.” Emma says, “One fucked up wish was enough for me.”

The Keeper says nothing, just watches Emma with those barn owl eyes. Emma eats faster, choking on a bite. “Tea?” The Keeper offers and Emma accepts it gratefully. She swallows the cup in one large gulp.

“So,” She says, wiping her mouth on a sleeve. She can almost feel rather than hear Regina’s muted sound of disgust. “What do you think?”

“Many things, Emma Swan.” The Keeper says, “But I’m afraid you’ll have to do without my thoughts on the matter.”

“What?” Emma manages to get out before she slumps head-first onto the table. The Keeper graciously has the presence of mind to push her plate out of the way while both Red and Regina jump up from their seats.

“What did you do?” Regina demands, rushing over to Emma. She can feel her still breathing, but that means little when Emma refuses to be roused, despite her efforts.

“What had to be done.” The Keeper says. “She asked a Jinn to interfere with a magic older and truer than any magic it could conjure. And only a Jinn, a damned creature of hubris and trickery, would be brazen enough to do this.”

“Granny, why would you-”

“Oh hush, child.” The Keeper snaps, “You can smell it on her, can’t you? You haven’t been away so long to have forgotten the smell of magic. It’s sharp on her – something’s pulled taut and set to break inside of her and better for us all if she faces it before that.”

She looks at Regina, all ice and steel, unyielding in her righteousness, “But she doesn’t have to face it alone.” And she offers Regina a second cup. Regina’s hand falters when she reaches out. “It won’t kill you.” The Keeper assures, although that’s little comfort, “There’s something in her head, something the Jinn’s magic is stopping her from remembering. You can only fight a curse with a stronger curse, and a Jinn’s trickery with cleverer trickery.”

“What did you do to Emma?” Regina asks, “What will this do to me?”

“Curse you. Into a sleepless sleep where the realm of the dreamwalkers and the realm of the earthwalkers intersect to create an un-space. There, neither the laws of dreams nor the laws of land are absolute. It is only there that Emma can confront the beast in her head.”

“Regina.” Red whines, “Don’t do it. What if you don’t wake up?”

Regina looks at the cup in her hand. The tea looks like any other tea she’s ever had. “Then you be sure to punch your Granny in the face for me.” And she drinks.

It’s oddly...mundane. Regina had been expecting something more fitting of a cursed drink.

She turns toward Red, “Did it work?”

“Regina? What the fuck is happening? What did she do to me?” Emma screeches at her.

Ah, so it did.

“Emma, calm down. Breathe.” Regina tells her. “The Keeper cursed you. She said you had to face the thing in your head but that the Jinn’s magic was stopping you.”

“That ass.” Emma says, panic momentarily diverted into anger, “Is she Red’s actual grandmother? If we murder her, will Red try to murder us? You’ll help me murder her, right? Avenge my untimely demis-wait. You’re here. She cursed me, not you. What are you doing here then?” Emma asks. Regina is silent.

“Hey, Regina? What are you doing here?” Emma asks again.

“Together, right?” Regina finally admits. And Emma’s panic and anger falls. “Oh.” She says.

“Well,” Regina backtracks, “There’s also the entire fate of the world to consider.”

“Right, right.” Emma says, “The world. Yeah, I guess it’s up to me to save it or some shit. From...what are we saving the world from again?”

Regina shrugs, “It’s own stupidity probably. Who knows. We can figure it out later. We need to get out of here first. Do you know where we are?”

Emma frowns, “Not really? I gathered we’re in my head or something - which is weird, but not entirely impossible.”

“No, not impossible.” Regina agrees, hand running over the wall, which had been set with cold stone and mortar that dusts off onto her fingertips. Emma watches with some fascination. “Emma?” Regina asks, breaking her out of her thought.

“Uh. Something familiar.” Emma says, trying to place it, “Feels like I’ve been here before. Been through that motion before.” She runs her hand over the spot where Regina’s hand had just been moments before. “But like, in a dream. Or like I watched someone else do it. That sort of thing.”

“Can you remember anything else?” Regina urges. Emma tries to pull on that thread, to unravel the fog that’s been clouding her dreams ever since she made that damn wish. She tries, but no matter how far back she casts, there’s nothing in her memory but the feeling of walls trapping them in.

“No, nothing.” They reach a corner, “It’s as if this is all there is to remember.”

“A room?” Regina asks. “Just a room?”

“Yeah. A room.” Emma says, “With no doors or anything. Just us, walled in.”

“Well, just me, actually.” A voice quips, “But take your time remembering, I’m in no hurry.”

They both startle at that. “Fuck!” Emma says under her breath, heart pounding in her throat. “Have you always been there?” Regina asks while Emma’s trying to recover.

“Technically, yes. Technically, no. I haven’t gone anywhere, I can’t really.” It gestures to the sword in its chest, “But Emma had to remember me first, before I could slip into existence here in this room. We find ourselves in a tricky space, where the laws of magic contradict and resolve themselves in unpredictable ways.”

“Mystical hogwash.” Regina mutters under her breath.

Emma looks at her in surprise, “I thought you were immune to all this.”

“Higher tolerance. More experience.” Regina corrects, “But this is all kinds of bullshit.”

“Huh.” is all Emma can think to say.

“Emma,” it interrupts, svelte and smooth, “I’ve been waiting for you. It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting, you know.”

When it says that, Emma remembers _Lady, I don’t know who you are but I am pretty sure we’re not friends._

“You!” she says, accusatory with recognition, pieces finally clicking into place, “You’re the thing in my dreams!”

“Technically, yes. Technically, no.” It says again and Emma wants to strangle it. “I am what slipped into your mind when it presented itself with the vacancy. Such a rare occasion, I couldn’t bear to miss it.”

Emma has so many questions. She settles for, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“My options for vacation spots were limited.” It tells her, quite solemn. “There is, after all, a very large sword through me. Which, speaking of, are we ready to negotiate?”

“About?” Emma asks tentatively.

“Why, the sword in my chest. Which you’ll be pulling out, thereby freeing me.”

“Somehow, I get the feeling that you deserve that sword in your chest.” Emma notes.

It makes a dismissive gesture, “Semantics. Who really gets to decide what we deserve anyway?” It looks at her, eyes alight with cunning, “No, Emma, all that truly matters is what we manage to claim for ourselves.”

“You’re really not helping your case here.”

Emma really wishes it would stop smiling like that, too wide to be human, too many sharp teeth to be human, too human in its vicious calculation, “You’ll find that inevitability is on my side here.”

Emma scoffs, “Says the thing with the sword in it.”

Regina has been quiet, thoughtful in her silence. Her fingers tap against her leg, restless while her mind works. She takes in the creature, its female guise, the sword through its chest, the cadence of its words. She remembers warm fires and homely beds, her father’s low and crooning voice whispering stories of another realm just alongside theirs. Good ones, with heroes and happy endings to make her brave and kind, and bad ones with everything else to teach her care and caution. This is a story, she thinks, a bad one.

“You’re the Jabberwocky,” she finally says, “trapped by the Vorpal Blade.” and the Jabberwocky looks over, pleased to be recognized at last.

“So you’ve heard of me.” It preens.

“Nothing good, I assure you.” Regina says back. “They say you prey off the fears of people, slip into their minds to tell them truths too honest for them to bear, and that your tyranny was stopped with the Vorpal Blade through your chest.”

She leans in to take in the blade, fearless, “Can’t slip away or into anything if you’re pinned.”

“Oh, Emma.” The Jabberwocky says, clearly impressed, “You’ve picked a lovely woman to be your lover.”

Emma chokes. “What? No, Regina and I don’t-We’re-We’re not-” she manages to get out. She risks a panicked glance over at Regina, who looks equally stricken with shock.

“Oh, but you’d like be to, wouldn’t you?” The Jabberwocky says, with all the smug satisfaction of a predator to its cornered prey, “I’ve seen the darkest corners of your mind, dear Emma, where you’ve left all your demons to fester.”

Emma needs to stop it, but the Jabberwocky’s left her disoriented, like the ground shifts under her and she can’t get her footing. It’s in that moment when she’s trying to get her bearings that the Jabberwocky drives in the killing blow, deep into her core, “Do you think that you could ever be enough for anyone? That you have ever been enough?”

“Do you think,” the Jabberwocky asks, gleefully twisting a knife in the wound, “she could love you? That she would ever pick you? When your own parents loved you only enough to abandon you by the roadside instead of the forest?”

Emma pales, like she’s bleeding from an open wound all the same.

“Oh, young Emma,” it coos, “I know, I know, it hurts. Just like when you were no more than three years into this cruel life, and you lost your new parents one day in the marketplace and never found them again. It hurts just like when the nights are too quiet, you wonder if they left you instead. Or perhaps it hurts like when your friends left you to the whims of the guards, blamed for their thefts. You wonder why no one’s ever come back for you and you know, deep in these corners of your mind where your demons live, that you have never been good enough to come back for.”

There is no recovering from this. Emma just stands there, numbly clenching and unclenching her fists because the Jabberwocky has never spoken an untruth. She has been stripped and laid bare, found wanting in it.

“Maybe if you tried just a little harder, just a little more, you could have be enough for someone.”

“Enough!” Regina commands, shifting so that she stands between Emma and the Jabberwocky, “What do you want?”

“Why, what every living creature wants – freedom.” It motions toward the sword, “Pull the sword out, set me free, and I shall stop. You have my word.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Oh, I don’t care about you.” The creature dismisses, “You can’t pull the sword out. Only Emma can, and she will. Otherwise we’ll all remain trapped here. There’s only one being in this realm who’s clever enough and powerful enough to gather us into this un-space and she must have been desperate to have done so.”

The creature claps happily, an impressive feat for something impaled by a sword, “You need my sword, you see. And, Emma here has been such a grateful host, I don’t feel put out by this offer at all. Pull the sword out, and not only shall I stop, I shall graciously lend you my sword for your destined purpose.”

Regina looks over at Emma, who stands there with the same blankness on her face, “Emma?” She asks. Emma looks dully up at her “Huh? Oh, sure, I guess. Whatever, right? Destiny and shit.”

Regina slaps Emma, “Fuck! What was that for?” Emma bites out, rubbing at her cheek.

“Stop being a dolt!” Regina hisses, “Can’t you see what it’s doing? It’s just trying to manipulate you!”

“It wasn’t lying, Regina. You said it yourself, the Jabberwocky tells honest truths.” Emma says quietly.

Regina grips her tightly by her shoulders, “Listen to me carefully, you idiot, because I’ll only say this once. You have always been enough, exactly as you are, and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t deserve you.”

“Not enough for anyone to ever come for me.” Emma mumbles and Regina groans in exasperation before shaking her harshly, “I did, damn you, and I’m quite frankly offended that you were too busy feeling sorry about yourself to remember that. I drank a cursed tea because the Keeper promised me you wouldn’t have to face this alone if I did.”

“Oh,” she says, “You, uhm.” She pauses, unable to articulate the weightiness of the situation. “For me?” She settles on.

“Yes, for you.” Regina says smiling warmly but briefly before snapping on a look of somber seriousness, “So stop wallowing in self-pity and help me get us out of here. And we’ll figure out the rest after. Together.”

It’s enough, it’s enough, Emma thinks. She’s enough. And she lets herself believe. Regina has a way of making that easy, believing. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”

“This has been a lovely moment,” The Jabberwocky drawls, interrupting, “but there’s still a sword through my chest and we’re not getting any younger.”

They look over to the Jabberwocky, who smiles back at them, assured in the conclusion of events. “Pull out the sword, Emma.” it tells her, “and let loose the dogs of destiny.”

Emma exhales to steel her nerves. Breathing in deeply, she looks over at Regina. “There’s no going back from this, is there?” She asks.

“I think we’re a bit past the point of no return.” Regina admits, “It would seem that inevitability was indeed on the Jabberwocky’s side today.”

Emma nods, “Okay.” she says, and grips the handle of the sword. It’s warm in her hand, like another hand had just held it. The leather is supple but steady in her palm. She tugs experimentally and the sword does not give. She shouldn’t be surprised, someone had driven this sword right up to the hilt through the Jabberwocky and into solid stone – it would take a mythical kind of strength to reclaim it.

“You must believe, Emma,” The Jabberwocky tells her, “That you are a child of destiny and that this sword is your birthright.”

Emma doesn’t believe, not really. She’s just Emma, child of no family and of no lands. But Regina is close, watching with worried eyes, and Regina believes. She believed enough to run away from everything she’d ever known and risk her life to deal with beings of magic, just to find her place in destiny’s shadow. Regina has always believed without reserve, so steadfast in her conviction that the world had no choice but to concede it to her. And when Emma asked, Regina had let it all go.

No, Emma doesn’t believe in destiny, not in the way she thinks it would like her to, but she believes in Regina.

And the sword slips out like butter, scraping what sounds like a rib bone on the way out and popping free with a squelching noise.

“Eurgh.” Emma says, grimacing at the noise. Regina is inclined to agree. The Jabberwocky stretches as if it hadn’t been skewered to a wall for who knows how long. “Now what?” Emma asks when they’re done staring at the bloodied blade.

“Now you tear a rip in the fabrics of space and we slip through back into the realm of the earthwalkers, where we shall part ways.” The Jabberwocky answers casually, as if this is commonplace. Which, Emma considers, probably is for the Jabberwocky.

“That seems like an awfully powerful sword expended to trap you.” Regina muses.

“Well, I’m an awfully powerful creature.” The Jabberwocky boasts, “After all, you can only fight magic with magic of the same ilk.” It smiles that terrible smile at Regina, who refuses to back away from it.

Emma waves the sword around like a stick, “I’m not seeing any reality-destroying tears happening.” She points out. The Jabberwocky looks over. “Emma, darling,” it bemoans, “Please be civilized with my sword. We do not hack and slash like this is some barbaric pillaging expedition. We use our magic to orient our precise and graceful cuts.”

“Do I look magical to you?” She asks.

“Yes, now if only you would use it properly.”

“That was sarcasm.” Emma grumbles, “I don’t have magic. I think I would know if I had magic.”

The Jabberwocky doesn’t say anything, just stares at Emma, as though it were willing Emma to suddenly come to the conclusion it wanted her to.

It must work, because Emma goes, “Oh! The thing! My hand!”

“Yes, Emma.” The Jabberwocky says, slowly, like talking to a small child, “The magic you wished for in your second wish.”

Emma makes a face and sighs, “You know, my life used to be normal.”


	11. chapter ix. precipice

Red paces first one way, then the next, running a path into the dirt of the grove. She doesn’t fidget, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that the pacing does nothing to ease. Which, Granny thinks, defeats the point of the pacing and therefore is giving her a headache for no reason.

“Stop that, Red. You’re making me nauseous and it’s doing no one any good anyway.” She scolds.

“Sorry-” Red says, “Wait, no, I’m not sorry. How could you do that to them? To Emma! We came here because I thought you could help, not trick them into a cursed sleepless sleep!”

“What’s to say the two are not one and the same?” Granny challenges. “How do you think you found her in the beginning? What allowed Lady Marian and the Wild Hunt to find you so quickly, when the forest has not kept a stable shape in the last year? That girl draws magic toward her and better for her that she have magic to respond with in kind.

Before Red can answer, the reality around them cracks and a foul stench, which Red can only describe as _otherdangerthreat_ , fills the air. She feels the bones in her face shift in response, readying to tear through whatever is coming through the rip. Granny pulls at her collar. “No. Let it be.” she says, “It’s escape means your friends will be waking up soon.”

Her bones fit themselves back into their sockets as Emma lets out a groan.

“Please tell me I was dreaming.” She grunts. Then, she finds the sword in her hand, “Please tell me I didn’t just pull a sword out of a dream.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The Keeper says, “You can’t pull objects from dreams. You pulled it from an un-space.”

Emma snaps to at the sound of her voice, leaping up to brandish the sword in front of her. Red winces at her stance. “You! You did this!” She accuses.

“I did.” The Keeper affirms, “Because you needed a sword powerful enough to fight with and this one was already near.”

“Did we just use a sword that should only exist in legend to cut between realities, letting a creature that shouldn’t actually exist escape while doing so?” Regina asks from behind her, still lying on the forest floor. Emma should feel more smug that it’s finally not her knocked flat by the situation, but she’s more offended by the Keeper’s blitheness to really enjoy the moment. Red takes this opportunity to slip between Emma and Granny.

“Okay, let’s not kill my Granny, Emma. Not that you could, but I don’t want to see you die from the trying.”

“Your Granny tried to kill me!” Emma reminds her.

“No.” The Keeper corrects, “I put you in the same plane of existence as your sword and forced you to make a decision about the kind of person you were going to be.”

“Not seeing the difference here.” Emma grits out.

“I let you decide. Isn’t that what you wanted? To decide your own fate?”

Emma deflates somewhat, lowering her sword, but Red suspects that may be because Emma isn’t actually used to wielding a sword. “Not like this.” Emma says, “I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Very rarely do we find ourselves in circumstances of our asking.” The Keeper says agreeably, “Old and powerful forces often interfere in the movements of mortals so that they may maintain their own movements. This has always been, and it shall always be. Your story has been told.”

At this, the Keeper lithely sidesteps Red and grips at Emma’s sword hand, twisting hard enough that Emma yelps before letting go of the sword. The Keeper catches it in her other hand to return it to Emma, pommel first. “You will die, Emma Swan, in service to destiny’s whims. This much as been written in stone by hands surer than any of ours. But the rest, the rest is for you to decide.”

The Keeper is very close. Her eyes are not kind; the Keeper is too old to remember such mortal things, but they make a good effort at it. There is no malice in them either - she is too old to remember all mortal things. There is only her conviction in the inevitability of things, the sureness that all things will come to be as written.

“I don’t accept that.” Emma declares, “But a sword is better than no sword.” And she reclaims the Vorpal Blade.

The Keeper lets it go without a fight. She is not a child of destiny in the way Emma is, nor is the blade her birthright. It thrums in Emma’s hand, sure of its place in the world, although Emma holds it with distinct hesitance. She supposes it will have to be enough.

“What has destiny called upon Emma for?” Regina asks behind them, finally recovered enough to join in the conversation. “And I suppose, us along with her.”

The Keeper glances over at her, “You are the one who freed the firebird.”

“Yes.” Regina says.

“You did not ask it of your destiny.” The Keeper remarks.

“I did not. Such truths should not be told.” Regina replies.

The Keeper is silent for a moment. “You did not ask the firebird of your destiny,” she says, “but to have sought it out was to find it all the same. It was not by chance you met Emma of destiny, for your destinies have become one and the same. You must kill Queen Snow of the Summerlands.”

“What.” Emma says, dumbfounded. She looks over to Regina. It would look impassively neutral to anyone else, but , but Emma has spent a not insubstantial amount of time studying Regina. The straight set of her mouth thins and hardens and her eyebrows furrow almost imperceptibly. Emma can almost make out the clenching of her teeth.

If the Keeper notices, it merits no interruption because she continues, “Queen Snow has trifled with dark magic beyond what your kind should ever meddle with, drawing it from the realms that run alongside this one. Such an imbalance cannot be ignored and should she be left to continue, it may destroy not just this realm, but all the other realms she has stolen from.” Here, she pointedly looks at Regina.

“You wished to ask the firebird to tell you of a thread of your fate that allowed you to redeem your mistakes.” Regina’s startled face does merit an interlude, “Do not look so surprised, child. The Forest holds very few secrets from its Keeper and your destiny was not one of them.”

The Keeper’s eyes takes on that visage of not-kindness, “I am sorry,” she says to Regina, “That you have been made to bear the sins of your mother. But this is the answer your unasked question – you were destined to reunite them in death, not in life. That is your redemption.”

The forest lapses into an unnatural silence, as though the world were holding its breath for Regina’s response. They all stare at Regina, the Keeper in patient acceptance, Emma and Red in mute horror. Regina, for her part, allows herself one shuddery breath, closes her eyes, and then, “Red.”

“Huh?” Red says, shaking herself out of the stillness of the world.

“I’ve finished what I set out to do.” And she turns to leave, not even bothering to see if anyone follows her. Emma isn’t sure what’s happening or what that means, but she follows Regina anyway.

“Oh. Okay, sure. Let’s go back then.” Red says, sparing one last glance at Granny before trailing after them.

The Keeper watches.

In the end, the Forest keeps its deals.

\---

The Keeper says nothing when they depart, nor does she make any move to stop them, but the Wild Hunt joins them as they leave the heart of the Forest.

“To ensure your safe passage.” Lady Marian says.

The Wild Hunt keeps a respectful distance. Red, unsure of where she should be, flits between running alongside Lady Marian and alongside Emma and Regina.

They ride with the oppressive weight of silence upon them. Emma can’t stand it. “Going to ride ahead.” She grunts out and speeds up. Regina makes no sound or motion to indicate she noticed or even cares. That’s fine with Emma, she can live with this.

Soon after, Red catches up to Emma, who is irritated but not so much as to remove Red.

“You and Regina hurt.” Red tells her.

“What?” Emma asks, surprised and somewhat offended, “The fuck did we do to-”

“No, no, not like that.” Red is quick to interrupt. “But you’re mortal. I’m...less so.”

“Oh.” Emma says lamely.

“I loved a boy once.” She confesses. “I was young, barely into my first century, and he’d gotten lost and accidentally slipped into the Forest. He looked at me in my wolfsform and said,’Hello, there. I’m Peter.’ as if I weren’t going to eat him. And oh, I was so smitten, Emma. Mortals live such short lives, but they’re so bright and colorful, and he was so vivid too.”

Red looks lost in her reverie and Emma hesitates to intrude, but she does. “What happened?”

“He died the next year. And then I ate his heart and his eyes so that we could travel together until the end of our days.”

“And do you?” Emma ventures.

Red barks out a sad laugh, “No, Emma. He was mortal and mortal is as mortal is. He died and there is no coming back from that.”

“Oh.” Because what else is there to say? Emma still isn’t sure why Red is telling her this, but she can listen. That’s what friends do, she thinks.

“I did not care again for many years, Emma. Not until Regina stumbled into the Forest and refused to give up her horse. I came to care for her deeply, as I care for you deeply, and I know that you two shall pass before I have forgotten how to grieve and it will hurt then as deeply as I care now.”

“Oh.” Emma says again, because she instinctively wonders why Red would willingly allow herself such pains but does not wish to voice it, lest she insult Red.

“But Emma,” Red says, and as though she were reading Emma’s mind, “It’s worth it. To care, I mean. While I still can. In perhaps another century or so, I will have lived too long to remember what it means to be mortal, such tendencies smoothed over and washed away like a rock left in the river. And then perhaps in another five centuries, all that will be left of me is a Guardian of the Forest. Sooner, if I let myself forget.”

“You should talk to her.” Red concludes, punctuating her advice with a warning, “We become our titles, Emma. They are often all that is left of us when we die. I was born to Anita of the Forest, who left me for the Keeper of the Forest to raise.”

And she runs off, leaving Emma to wonder what the fuck just happened that a nigh-immortal shapeshifting wolf thought it best to advise her on her relationships.

Relationship. With one person. Fuck.

\---

Emma plods along slow enough for Regina to catch up to her. Regina slows down too. Frustrated, Emma comes to a full-stop and waits for Regina to reluctantly catch up before matching her pace. Regina looks straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge Emma beside her.

“Maybe we should talk.” Emma says with unconvincing surety.

“Or, maybe we can concentrate on the fact that apparently it was both of our destinies to murder my once-charge and what we’re going to do about that.” Regina bites out bitterly.

“Eh?” Emma asks, distracted. This is new information and she really wishes people would stop adding more shit onto her pile of shit to think about because it’s already a large pile with an even larger backlog.

“Yes, Emma. I was once governess to the now Queen Snow. She wasn’t cold, back then. I rescued a young girl, who could have been good and kind, but my mother got her claws into her and well, here we are.”

Regina exhales, brittle and quiet, “And so I suppose in the end it truly was my fault. I could not save her from my mother, and I could not keep her secret so that her love could save her either. I could not save my mother from her, and I could not save myself. For that, my father died and now this is my penance.”

Emma only needs to think for a moment. “Nope.” She says. “Not only are you wrong, you’re being stupid.”

Regina looks outraged, “I tell you what happened and you’re telling me I’m wrong? I was there, Emma! I am pretty sure I know what happened.”

“Yep. Wrong as the days are long. Look, you _saved_ a girl. That’s a good thing in most people’s books.”

“Need I remind you that it ultimately led to the rise of an oppressive and power-hungry monarchy the actions of which may destroy not just one, but multiple realms?”

“Well, yes,” Emma concedes, “But you didn’t know that at the time. You saved a girl because it was the right thing to do, and don’t tell me that knowing all of this, you wouldn’t save her all over again. You wouldn’t condemn a girl for a future she hasn’t lived yet. I know you, Regina, you couldn’t do such a terrible thing.”

“Oh.” Regina says breathily, and nothing else. Emma looks over, “You still here? Seems like you went somewhere for a moment.”

“Hm? Oh, nothing. It’s just, that’s what Daddy told me, when this all started. That I wasn’t capable of such atrocities.”

“Your father sounds like a smart man.” Emma says with light reverence.

“He was.” Regina says, smiling in the memory, “He’s the one who taught me about the fair folk and all of their customs.”

“Yeah? You know what? I’d bet every gold coin I had that if he were here, he’d tell you to stop being stupid and to stop trying to carry the world on your shoulders. None of those things are your fault, okay? People are responsible for their own actions and things happen, accidents happen. They’re no one’s fault. No matter how much you think they could be yours.” Emma says confidently, looking over to make sure her words sink in.

Regina looks almost shy, eyes not quite in the present, but it seems like a good kind of nostalgia, wherever she is and that’s enough for Emma. “Not in so many words, no.” Regina admits, “But I suppose yes, he would voice a similar sentiment.”

Emma smiles brightly and the silence around them becomes amicable for a spell.

“Yes, I suppose we should talk.” Regina finally says, breaking the silence. Emma almost wishes she hadn’t – comfortable has been rare and fleeting and she’d been content to bask in it while it lasted.

“I mean, we don’t have to.” she stammers out, “I just don’t want it to be awkward around us. You, uh, you mean an awful lot to me, y’know?”

“So I gathered.” Regina teases and Emma knows they’ll be okay.

“It’s just, you said the Jabberwocky only speaks honest truths.” Emma pushes on, “and it said some things, and I just wanted to, I guess talk about it. Because it wasn’t lying.” she finishes lamely.

Regina looks thoughtful, “I also told you that the Jabberwocky preys off of its victim’s fears. And perhaps that’s why it told you what it did. I was just a convenient target.”

They are on the precipice of _something,_ Emma is not sure what. But this is an out, Emma recognizes, maybe one they need right now.

“I think,” Regina continues, in a ponderous voice almost to herself rather than to Emma, “That whatever happens, what freedom we have left in the wake of destiny, we should claim. We’ll make our own choices, yes?”

Then at Emma, “The legends say that the Jabberwocky only speaks honest truths but in reality, the Jabberwocky lies, same as everyone else.”

And she breezes off to join Red. Emma sits there stunned for a moment. It is a warm feeling in her chest, she realizes, to remember that Regina had come to pull her out of the Keeper’s trap. To believe that together, they could be strong enough.

Maybe even strong enough to do something impossible, she thinks.

(fervently, she believes)

\---

They come across three stones, with faces smooth as fresh-frozen ice. Emma doesn’t know why they’re stopping here. Red paws at the dirt and doesn’t meet their eyes. “Here we are.” She says.

“Here we are indeed.” Regina agrees.

Lady Marian draws close to Red and nudges her gently, “Act befitting of your station.” She reminds her. “No matter how much it hurts” she tacks on in a whisper.

“Right.” Red draws up straight and formal, “Regina, here is where you made your pact with the Forest and here is where you have requested the Forest to take you. Here, back from whence you came, the Forest fulfills its obligation to you.”

Regina bows, equally formal, “Thank you, Red of the Forest. Here, I relieve you of your service to me.”

They stare at each other, awkwardly and painfully stiff, and Red caves first. She bounds to Regina and Regina sinks to meet her, burying her face in the scruff of Red’s neck.

“I will miss you.” She chokes out.

“Who wouldn’t miss me?” Red tries to joke back, but it’s lost in her equally choked voice. “Be careful, okay? Please be careful.”

“You could come with me.” Regina offers, somewhat desperately and in knowing futility, “Who else is going to stop me from setting the entire forest on fire?”

“I can’t. You know I can’t. Please don’t ask me to.” Red whines. Her voice cracks in the middle of it.

Emma goes to pull Regina away from Red at the same time Lady Marian comes up to retrieve Red. This is not their goodbye, but they both understand that to let it continue is to invite a needless hurt that will only fester. Red pads up to Emma, “You be careful too, okay?”

It’s an empty request, hollowed out by the knowledge of destiny before them. But Emma smiles anyway, if a bit tightly, and ruffles at Red’s ears, “Remember us, okay? For as long as you can. If this is goodbye.”

“You guys are pretty memorable fuckups.” Red says and Emma lets it pass. Morbid humor is all they have right now.

Lady Marian waits until Regina has composed herself before drawing something out from behind her cloak to offer her.

“What is this?” Regina asks.

“My husband’s bow.” Lady Marian tells her, “For your noble path. It is imbued with old magic, magic of purpose rather than of the light or of the dark, and its shot will always fly true. It is his birthright, but he has less need of it than you right now. Please take this, Regina of the Forest.”

Regina balks at the title, “No, I’m Regina.” she says, “Just Regina. Not of the Forest.”

“No? And yet you ride with us and to our defense. You do not have to claim your title, Regina of the Forest, but it is yours all the same. You may have not been born to it, but you have earned our favor.” Lady Marian insists.

“Please take the bow.” Red urges, “It can only help. And it will make me feel better,” she further wheedles.

Regina sighs in acquiescence and takes the bow from Lady Marian. It is comfortable in her grasp, sure of its place in the world.

“Ride well, Regina of the Forest, and may the winds bring you back home to us. I will need that bow back when you are done with it. I think I shall give it to my husband as an engagement present, this time around.”

Emma makes a perplexed face but before she can ask anything, Red whispers to her, “Lady Marian’s husband is one of the mortals bearing the responsibility of Champion of the people. A few are born in every lifetime. This lifetime, one of them’s Robin Hood. You know him?”

“Seriously?” Regina interrupts, too loudly, “That no-good weasel of a-” She wisely stops there because Lady Marian is staring at her now. Emma is also staring at her. “He’s my competition and he’s ruined half my heists!” Regina defends.

“He will grow into it.” She assures, “We can only ever be ourselves.” Her gaze settles knowing upon Emma and Emma must look away from its intensity.

“Come, Little Red. We have much to do.” Marian announces with somber finality.

\---

“Now what?” Emma asks, when the shadows of Red and the Wild Hunt are no longer distinguishable from the shadows of the trees.

“Now,” Regina responds, a determination born of necessity stark on her face, “We decide what kind of people we’re going to be.”


	12. chapter x. ouroboros

“Hey.” Emma whispers as she slides up beside Regina.

“Fuck!” Regina hisses, “Don’t do that! Gods, you’re going to kill me before Snow has a chance to.”

“Keeps you on your toes.” Emma says with a grin. “You never know.” -and the grin falls off.

Regina ignores that. “What’ve we got?” She asks instead, all business.

Emma, equally serious now, “Nothing good. She knows something’s up. Guards have tripled in the last week.”

“Damnit.” Regina curses, “Where’s she getting them?”

Emma shrugs, “There isn’t much a person won’t do for the right price. Or, y’know, knowing Snow, the right amount of fear.”

“No,” Regina agrees, “and they can’t be well trained, but they’re still bodies we’ll have to go through.”

“Yeah.” Emma says. “Fuck, why couldn’t it be easy?”

Regina shrugs, “As easy as can be expected when you’re trying to depose the ruling monarch of a country. They built castles for a reasons. To make it harder to depose monarchs, in case you didn’t catch that.”

Emma jostles her, “Don’t be rude. I’m just, I’m no good at this. You know that. Better for me to be out there doing something than hiding in the shadows like a rat.”

It’s true, Emma isn’t one for long games like this one is. They’d ridden into Snow’s lands one sunny summer day and she’d told Regina, “Okay then, so we’ll just ambush her in her throne room, threaten her with my magic sword, and be done with it?”

She’d said it with such surety that Regina could only stare at her while trying to decide if it was foolish optimism or simple naivety that she spoke with.

“What about the guards? The castle? Snow herself? Not to mention any number of other countermeasures royal families often put in place to _stop people like us from doing the thing we’re trying to do?”_ Regina had asked.

Emma had blushed in response, “I thought you’d know of like, a secret passage or something.”

Simple naivety then, Regina had thought, and she closed her eyes in prayer to her gods. It would be a long revolution, to be nurtured in the shadows until their oppressors found them, hopefully when they’d the fangs and claws to fight back with and not before.

By now, fall has come and gone and the winter cold has had time to settle into the land; it seeps through even their thickest cloaks. Emma shivers and draws hers tighter around herself. “So, what do you think?” She asks, “Will it work?”

Regina thumbs over the maps. It’s one drawn from scraps of worn down memory, but it’s as close to accurate as they’ll get. “No.” She freely admits, “But it’s probably our best chance.”

Emma makes a face, “Well, I guess that’s the best we can hope for. Let’s see if we can give the people something to celebrate this Winter Solstice, huh?” She gives one last pat at Regina’s shoulder before she slips off again, probably to get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day and Regina should follow suit, but then again, tomorrow is a big day.

She sighs and rubs at her left eye. The flickering candlelight does nothing for her headache but would-be usurpers, one of whose faces is plastered across the doors of every tavern, don’t get to hide out in those taverns. They get to hide out in the basements of dens of iniquity and steal candles from upstairs.

“Stop thinking so much. We can hear you from out here.” a voice calls out from the doorway, “The rest of us are trying to sleep.”

She looks up; it’s Graham, once the Huntsman to the Crown, now a fugitive just like the rest of them. She sighs again, “Then get some sleep. Some of us have work to do.”

Graham ignores her and leans over her shoulder to stare at the maps too, “So, think it’ll work?”

Regina growls in frustration, “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do I pay you all to question my decisions? Just do you damn jobs.”

“You don’t pay us shit.” Graham reminds her, “Despite Emma’s insistence that ‘doing the right thing is it’s own reward’.” He doesn’t mention that Emma always says it with a barely straight face, as if she can’t believe that the words are coming out of her own mouth. It makes Regina wonder why they’re doing this at all sometimes, when she has a rare moment of silence.

Fortunately, those moments are few and far between. And normally pushed aside by more important things, like this plan.

“Besides,” Graham continues in lieu of continue the silence, “When you’re antsy, Emma’s antsy, and then we all have to suffer her sulking. If you’ve ever loved any of us you’ll stop before she stabs someone, which will lead to someone stabbing her, and then we’re all dead – stabbed and bleeding on this disgusting floor.”

Graham punctuates his telling of their internal civil war with a silly grin and she snorts at that. “If you get yourself get stabbed, you deserved to be stabbed. Be better.” She retorts.

“Fair enough.” He concedes before sobering. “You should talk to her.” He tells her, “You might not have a chance to, after tomorrow.”

Regina puts her head in her hands. “Stop meddling.” Her muffled voice filters out to tell him.

“ _I was raised with my wolf brothers.” He tells her one morning. They’d taken the last night watch._

_Regina is quiet for a moment. Secrets find comfort in the crisp morning air of the just-rising sun, she supposes. “What happened?”_

“ _We became strangers to one another first, and then no longer brothers.”_

“ _What about your sisters?” Regina thinks of Red and wonders if she has family out there too._

“ _She never took on the mantle.”_

“Stop being dumb then.” He counters.

She looks up at him, “And what would I even say?” She asks.

He rubs at his beard, “The truth, I suppose. Insofar as you know it. She loves you, you know, even if neither of you are willing to acknowledge it.”

“You’re the one sharing her bed.” Regina points out.

Graham nonchalantly shrugs, “Only because she doesn’t think yours is available.” He ruffles her hair, something he knows annoys her and thus refuses to stop doing. “Just something to think about. But our graves are always big enough for our secrets, in case you don’t.”

“ _Did you ever find them again?”_

“ _Yes. When I buried them.”_

_Together they watch the sun rise until Emma yells at them to come down because she’s not waiting on them for breakfast._

“Ugh.” Regina groans and Graham lets out a light laugh. “Good night, Regina. May it not be our last.”

Regina lets her head fall onto the table. It awkwardly stretches her neck and she thinks she should move but the silence is unbearable and she doesn’t want to face it when she could be looking at a blurry label of ‘KITCHEN DOOR’ instead.

Graham is a good man who sees too much sometimes. She supposes it was to be expected. Red could always smell a lie from across the room, even if it was merely by the absence of a truth.

There is nothing to say, Regina concludes. Emma does not love her, not in the way Graham thinks she does. Emma loves the idea of Regina, the theoretical _them_ they could be in her head. But Emma has only known Regina as Regina the Bandit, a person Regina thinks could be loved and could love in return. But Regina is not Regina the Bandit, not that kind of person.

And even if she were, there is the Jabberwocky, destiny, a power-hungry queen, and the fate of multiple realms to consider.

Regina whines into the desk. It is far too much to consider, which is why Regina doesn’t. This does nothing for her headache.

Regina does not love Emma, not in the way Emma would like her to love. Perhaps in another lifetime she could, but that is a story that starts too far in the past for her to even begin to conceive. Perhaps even in this lifetime, were there not so many other unsurmountable and impossible things between them, but there are and so it would be unfair to come to Emma with _maybe_. Best to say nothing at all, and let Emma live her life beyond Regina.

No good has ever come out of loving Regina, anyway.

\---

Emma finds her like this in the morning, hunched over the desk drooling over the maps she’d painstakingly drawn. The ‘KITCHEN DOOR’ is unrecognizable. Emma grins, Regina’s going to wake up with a nasty crick in her neck and Emma’s going to give Regina so much shit for this.

What a great start to an otherwise inevitably terrible day.

“Hey, wake up, dumbass.” Emma says as she rouses Regina, “Stop drooling over our battle plans and wake up. I’ve got coffee. I don’t think anyone spit in this cup yet. Probably. Maybe the coffee.” Emma takes an experimental sniff, “Well, you probably won’t taste it if someone did.”

Then she takes a sip, “Oh gods, you might not taste anything after this cup.”

Regina makes a small noise and blindly grips around for the cup. Emma holds it out of her reach until Regina finally looks up, eyes barely open. “Give me my coffee.” She tells Emma, hoarse and sleep-slow, “or I’ll make you rue the day you ever thought that a bandit and a talking wolf were your best chances to escape the wrath of a sea witch.”

Emma laughs and puts the coffee on the table to slide over so that Regina doesn’t spill any of it and burn through everything it touches. “I could never regret that, Regina. No matter what happens.”

Regina steals a glance over at Emma over the coffee cup. The honest look in Emma’s face chafes at something raw in her and it’s too damn early for this. Regina looks down at her coffee cup and sips until the silence becomes awkward. It takes a little longer than she’d like, probably because this coffee is killing her faster than its waking her up.

“Uh, well then.” Emma gets the hint, “Long day. Lot of work to do. Gonna go do it, and stuff.” She vaguely gestures outside and then leaves.

Regina sighs into her coffee, then chokes in the resulting steam cloud.

The day passes quickly – there is too much to do and there will never be enough time to do all of it. Regina spends it making sure that they’ve locked down everyone’s jobs, and that everyone is capable of doing their jobs. They’re no army, barely a group of thirty, but it will have to be enough. Her temper is short today and snaps viciously.

Emma pulls her over after she yells at a recruit for not checking in on the horses during the third watch shift.

“Hey, hey, calm down, Regina.” Emma says. Regina looks at her angrily too. Doesn’t she understand that they are thirty people, looking to storm a castle proven to have kept out entire armies, and that’s the easy part?

“Everything has to be in our favor, Emma.” Regina tells her, “That’s the only way any of us makes it out of this alive.”

“Yes.” Emma agrees, “And fighters who are nervous and skittish are something not in our favor. It’s done. We need to move forward.”

Regina deflates. Emma’s right. “Fine.” She says. Emma smiles but doesn’t move.

“Aren’t you going to get back to work?” Regina snaps. Her temper is still short.

“We’re as ready as we’re going to be.” Emma says, “and there isn’t any use in ratcheting up everyone’s stress levels just to run the same drills a hundred times more than the thousand times we’ve already run them.”

“Plus,” Emma admits, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“So talk..” Regina’s attention is still elsewhere, running scenarios and backup plans to backup plans.

“Graham knows.” She finally says.

“Graham knows much. He’s our second-in-command.” She’s being obtuse and hopes Emma will let it go.

No such luck.

Emma makes a helpless motion with her hands, flailing them errantly, “No, I mean. About us. You. Me. Our not-us. Not the Graham and me us. The Graham and me not-us.”

Regina wants to put this conversation out of it’s misery. “Emma,” she sighs, “is this the time to talk about this?”

“No.” Emma says, “but I don’t think I’ll have time after it.”

Destiny is a heavy thing to carry.

“It’s just,” she says, not looking at Regina, “could you give me this? I’d like to know, that’s all.”

Regina is silent. “No.” She confesses.

“Oh.” Emma’s face falls.

“But,” Regina continues, “we should talk. After. So I suppose you’ll just have to punch destiny in the face if you want this.”

Emma smiles at that. It’s too large to be anything other than patently false, but it will have to be enough as well. “Okay.” She says. “Okay.”

Regina thinks that’s the end of it and is making to return to her work when - “Hey, one more thing. How mad are you,” Emma asks, “that my original plan totally works and we’re going with it?” She’s got a shit-eating grin on her face that Regina wants to punch off, but it’s a better look than the alternative.

“Considering that it required six months of work on my part to make feasible? I would argue that it’s my plan now and so, not very.” Regina answers primly.

Emma laughs, “Our plan, then.”

Regina lets her have it even though really, it’s her plan.

\---

Night falls fast – it is the eve of the Winter Solstice after all. Regina stands at the ready, Graham by her side. Emma has already moved her group into position by the east side of the castle.

“You seem awfully calm.” He says casually.

“Panic won’t do us any good.” She asserts.

“No, it won’t.” He agrees. He looks into the darkness, in Emma’s direction. “Ready?” He asks.

“No.” She says honestly, “but that doesn’t matter.” Together, they watch for the signal.

It’s a very obvious one – a muted explosion flares bright into the night sky. The din of guards rushing to the disturbance echoes past the castle walls.

And then, a great and terrible roar. Regina can make out a shadow, ever so slightly darker than the rest of the night, throwing itself across the horizon, smashing into the castle walls, and bringing down the east tower.

_When she arrives, Regina is waiting for her at the entrance to...a brothel? “Thank you for coming.” Regina tells her, “We need all the help we can get.”_

“ _A dragon’s not bad help to have, eh?” Lily asks._

_They pass Emma on the way to the command table (which Lily realizes is a cluster of barrels). When Emma notices them, she immediately interrupts her current conversation to rush over. “Lily!” She greets, “You came!”_

“ _Course I came, Ems.” Lily says, “Apparently it’s too much effort for you to come visit me in my castle, so I had to drag my ass over here instead.”_

“ _Well yeah, now you can enjoy the ambiance of debauchery and looming spectre of anarchy! Definitely an upgrade.”_

_Lily laughs._

Inanely, she realizes that this will be the third tower they have ruined.

“And here we go.” Graham says, “Ride well, Regina of the Forest and may the winds bring you back home.” She looks at him in surprise. He winks back at her, “The Forest whispers to any of its children who’ll listen.” he says in good humor before he rides off, taking half their group with him.

\---

They wait until the portcullis has been raised – the signal that Graham and the others were successfully able to take the front territories. The last of them ride through the entrance. They’ve been instructed to wreak as much havoc as possible, but also to inflict as few casualties as possible as well.

There will be a trail of bodies, this Regina knows, but hopefully a smaller one than if they left Snow alone. She breaks to veer toward the side entrance, the one the servants use, located on the southwest side. Were that the map still legible, it would have been the entrance labeled ‘KITCHEN DOOR’. As expected, the serving staff has all fled – war is no place for them. She dismounts and pulls herself close to Rocinante, one last hug. He nuzzles at her.

“Be good.” She whispers, “And remember to run away from the wolves. Red’ll run after you anyway.” She slaps his hind and he bolts into the forest darkness.

She quickly makes her way through the corridors. They’re mostly empty, the competent guards having dispatched to deal with Emma and Lily on the east side and Graham to the north side, dragging the incompetent guards with them as reinforcement.

It’s an eerie feeling, to be walking down these halls again. The emptiness is nothing new. If Regina could afford to close her eyes, she could almost imagine that she was but fourteen again, trying to be enough for her mother. She does not, but she spares a thought to reminisce that the castle is as cold and lifeless as she remembers it from her youth.

Some things never change, she supposes.

Regina has the element of surprise when she comes across the throne room. Snow only has two guards with her. The others must have been sent to squash the uprising they’ve caused and Snow must think her magic is enough to stave off any attack to her person.

Regina draws and quickly looses an arrow. It buries deep into the far guard’s neck, slipping right into the flesh barely exposed between the gorget and the helmet. He drops quickly with a red cry. Before the near guard can react, Regina tugs a thin dagger from its sheath and slips it between the plate and chainmail and he drops too. It doesn’t kill him, not right away, and he might not die, but he won’t live well either.

Hand free once more, she pulls another arrow from her quiver and draws it at Snow. This entire exchange happens in moments, just enough time for Snow to be surprised and to spark her magic in response. To say it glows would be incorrect – rather, her magic pulses with the absence of any light or being.

It’s an aberration and enough of one that Regina feels sick to her stomach to be this close to it. She doesn’t know how Snow could stand to wield it.

“Regina,” Snow White says, with the patience one might have with a child slow on the uptake, “Do you really think you can kill me with an arrow?”

She waves her hand lazily, as though to bat away Regina’s bow, and snarls when nothing happens.

“Magic.” Regina says, “Older and more powerful than you.”

She levels the arrow right at Snow White’s heart, “Now tell me, Snow, do you think you can move faster than I can shoot?”


	13. chapter xi. inevitability

Her hand shakes and she forces herself into stillness. “Surrender, Snow White.” Regina demands, “As we speak, my forces storm your castle and tear through your defenses. Surrender now, and you may yet be shown mercy and justice.”

Snow White laughs at this, a cruel and harsh sound that echoes through the throne room and rattles at Regina. “Mercy? Justice? For what, Regina? What sort of heinous crimes have I committed? The Crown recognizes no crime on my part.”

“Not the Crown, the order of the world.” Regina says, “You’ve stolen from beyond our realms and your actions will destroy us all.”

“Is that what they told you?” Snow White asks, “Why, Regina, I’m only doing my part to ensure our survival. You see-”

She makes to move her hand, interrupted by an arrow lodging itself into the throne so close to her ear that she feels it sink before she hears it.

“Another move and the next will tear through your throat.” Regina assures. Snow White raises her hands, palm up. Regina has far too many vivid childhood memories to lower her guard for that.

“Regina,” Snow White says again, disapproving, and Regina has far too many vivid childhood memories to not tense at the sound of her mother, not quite gone from this world. She desperately tamps the feeling down. Snow White would take any weakness she showed and use it to destroy her. “I’m only acting as any monarch should – wouldn’t you do everything in your power to protect your people?”

“Not like this. The cost is too high. You would damn everyone else and in doing so, damn us as well. It’s blind foolishness. Don’t pretend otherwise.” She forces herself to speak with steel and ice, so that her words become incapable of bending, of breaking.

“And who are you to decide that?” Snow challenges, “Do you consider yourself better than me, to be both my judge and executioner? Tell me, Regina-” She holds her chin high, even now, as befitting a queen, “-what sort of justice do you uphold, to return here after your own crimes against the Crown?”

Regina hesitates only slightly, the steady hand with which she has kept the bow taut barely wavering. Regina hesitates only slightly, but it is enough weakness for Snow to capitalize on. Moving faster than any human ought to, she dashes forward from her throne to close the distance between them. Regina lets the arrow loose, aimed at Snow’s heart.

But the bow is magic, magic older and more powerful than Snow, true, but also magic of purpose. And Regina had hesitated.

The shot goes wide. She barely has time to curse herself before Snow is too close, reaching for her bow. She swings it wild, hoping to catch Snow by surprise and use that moment to regain distance, but someone has taught Snow how to fight and she easily blocks the hit with an arm, entering the inside of Regina’s guard in the same motion. There, she follows up with a quick jab to her solar plexus and an elbow alongside it, catching the bow as Regina drops to catch her breath. Forcing herself to act through the pain, she desperately lunges forward to wrest the bow back from Snow, but is only met with smoke as Snow teleports herself away.

Back at her throne, Snow studies the bow. She affects disinterest, but Regina has learned that the danger lies underneath all the same. Snow makes a disappointed clicking sound with her tongue, “Regina, Regina. Shouldn’t have hesitated. After all, how could you hope to use a bow of true aim when you haven’t the conviction to aim it?” She pulls the bow back, stealing the essence of un-being from the abyss as she does so to form into the shape of an arrow.

“Unfortunately for you, I have no such problem.” And Snow White releases her terrible arrow, aimed at Regina’s heart.

Whatever agonizing pain Regina expects to happen, it’s not a dull thud to her right or the crashing of the floor coming up to meet her on her left. Behind her, Snow’s arrow slips into a wall. First nothing, and then the wall implodes with a violent _pop._

Regina allows herself a moment of hysteria, in which she is eternally grateful that the wall went and not her.

“I don’t think that’ll work again.” Emma tells her from her position sprawled atop Regina. She’s bloodied from her fight to get here, hair matted with sweat alongside it.

“Probably not.” Regina replies, still understandably dazed from her near-death experience.

“Good thing the cavalry’s here then.” And Lily hurtles through the throne room, between them and Snow White. Her entrance and subsequent exit because, as with all large things, it is easier to keep them in motion than it is to stop that motion, destroys the remaining three walls of the throne room and collapses half the roof. Everyone scrambles to evacuate to the now-exposed gardens before the remaining half decides to follow suit.

In another well-deserved moment of hysteria, Regina is also eternally grateful for the excellent structural integrity of the castle. Or at least what remains of it.

“Enough!” Snow White commands in the background, Lily turning to snap at her with her alarmingly many-teethed maw. Snow makes a deft flicking motion with her hand and a cloud of smoke begins to engulf Lily. She makes an outraged roar, pouncing at Snow White, but all that passes through Snow White is the smoke cloud, Lily nowhere to be seen.

“What did you do?” Emma demands, scrabbling to her feet, sword at the ready.

“Removed the distraction.” Snow White says. “I am only interested in my business with Regina. Leave, outsider, and I may yet forget this treason long enough for you to try and hide.”

“Emma, go.” Regina urges, “Only one of us needs to die here today. You need to survive.”

Emma grimaces. “You trust me?” She asks. Regina can’t see her face from where she’s standing, but Emma’s voice is as raw and honest as it’s ever been.

“If I say no, will you leave?” Regina asks, quiet and resigned to Emma’s inevitable answer.

She can almost hear Emma’s grin. “Nah,” she says. “But good showing.”

“Then you can die first.” Snow White decrees, and aims another un-arrow at Emma.

Emma does nothing to sidestep it, although it would be in vain regardless. Horror has a way of slowing time down, and so Regina watches, with mounting horror, as the arrow draws closer and closer to its inevitable landing. Emma’s grip on the sword tightens and she pulls it back, as though to swing it like a bat. No, Regina thinks, she isn’t about to-

She does. Emma swings underhand and on the upswing, the edge of the Vorpal Blade contacts with the tip of Snow White’s un-arrow.

For a brief moment, the world stops breathing.

Time stills.

All of existence compresses into one point.

 _After all, you can only fight magic with magic of the same ilk,_ clatter and clang the words of the Jabberwocky.

The arrow splits.

And reality comes crashing in to fill the silence once more, the halves of Snow’s magic scoring deep scars into the earth around them. Snow White stares at them, speechless in her surprise. She reaches into the abyss for another arrow, but nothing comes out. It must have cost Snow White greatly to have created the two she did, Regina realizes.

“Huh.” Emma says, “Didn’t think that would work, to be honest. Guess Mulan wasn’t full of shit.”

Regina wants to throttle her. She might, if they survive this. Right now, all she can do is gape.

“Yeah, you know, she said she did it once because apparently when Mulan says ‘don’t mess with magic’, she means ‘fuck that shit I’m going to get a goddamn sword to beat the shit out of any magic that dares to come near m-’”

Emma’s mid-explanation when the second arrow pierces her, straight through her heart. Both she and Regina stare at it in shock.

“Oh. _Fuck_ _me_ _.”_ Emma manages before collapsing, Regina sinking to try and save her.

“Perhaps in your next life, you will show your betters the proper respect.” Snow White sneers, “Honestly, my magic is too good for peasants like you. You bleed and die just like the rest of your kind, no matter what sort of weapons you hide behind.”

Regina would sigh in relief that it’s a simple arrow that’s jutting out of Emma right now, rather than one of Snow’s terrible arrows that would have left no evidence, but Emma’s eyes are glazing over quickly, her breath coming shallow and rapid, her blood pooling onto the ground too bright, too red, too much.

“Stay with me.” She begs.

“Inevitability.” Emma chokes out.

“Together.” Regina reminds her. They were supposed to do this together, they were supposed to be enough together. Emma had asked her to believe and she had, but here are all their promises, bleeding out into the garden of the firebird.

“Guess we won’t get to talk after all.”

Truly, all they have left is morbid humor, it would seem.

“What would you have said?” Emma manages to ask, although its labored. They haven’t much longer.

Regina wants to say, _maybe,_ because there isn’t time for a lie and Emma deserves the dignity of a truth. But there also isn’t enough time to explain that when Emma had freed the Jabberwocky from its prison, it had sunk its claws into her, pried her open from inside-out as it rifled through her mind and tore through everything she had ever held dear. That when it slipped away into the forest, it had whispered softly and almost sweetly into her ear -

_You love her, you love her, this you know, surely as you know that the moon chases the sun. And she loves you, as surely as the sun chases the moon. But the people you love tend to die for it. Was Daniel not enough? Your father? Even your mother, loathe as you are to admit it, loved you and too she died. If you tell her, she’ll die for it too, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself this time. And for what? Because in her you see the faraway places you cannot return to? What could you ever hope to grow from such selfishness? Is your maybe-love worth her life?_

Now, faced with the rest of her life without Emma, there could only ever be one answer.

“Yes.” Regina admits, because two maybe-lives would have been better than two half-lives.

“Okay.” Emma says, “This is okay.” as if that’s enough, as if that could ever be enough. When she closes her eyes this time, she doesn’t open them again, and all Regina’s left with is a half-life anyway.

“Oh, cease your prattling.” Snow says, assured in her victory, “You’ll be joining her soon anyway.” She draws the bow once more.

“Any last words?” She asks, patient with smugness.

Regina presses a single chaste kiss to Emma’s lips, because still she believes, after all this time, in the kind of love that is True enough.

True Love can break any curse, but Emma does not wake. After all, mortal is as mortal is, and death is no curse; it simply is.

“I’m sorry,” Regina says, first to Emma, in a whisper soft and sweet for her ears only, “for what’s become of us.” Then, wiping the tears from her eyes and facing Snow, to her. “I’m sorry.” She says louder, so that Snow may hear this one, “For what’s become of us.”

“Oh, Regina.” Snow says, in that voice of her mother’s, “Did you learn nothing? After all these years? Cora always said you were slow. Have you not learned that such meaningless offerings have never bought you anything?”

Regina has not heard that name in many years and even now, after all this time, it evokes a primal kind of fear, the paralyzing fear that grips at the base of her neck and refuses to let go. It is her mother with her hand in Regina’s chest, tightening around her heart, reminding her of her place. It is magic that grows vines from nowhere and pins her to the wall and steals her breath. It is years of the inability to move manifesting as the instinct to root herself where she stands.

She must let it go, if she is to survive.

Snow White aims, “Goodbye, Regina. Give my love my best. He has been waiting all these years for the message.”

Regina has always clung onto survival, the way drowned sailors do. She pulls Emma’s sword out of her too-cold hand, which had been sure of its place in her hand. In Regina’s hand, the Vorpal Blade screams. She does not know how Emma could stand to wield this either. It thickens in her blood, this dark thing, coursing through her body so that it may hollow it out along the way. It is too foreign, and yet familiar. And Regina intimately, painfully, suddenly understands that there is magic of light and dark, of good and evil, and that they are about as equivalent to one another as much as they are not. This is what it means, to have been built with magic of purpose.

The Vorpal Blade split an arrow shaped from non-existence. A simple arrow, carved from a willing tree in the Forest by her hand, is nothing compared to that.

Regina closes. Snow White moves to defend.

The Vorpal Blade is a blade of legend. They say its edge has been honed sharp enough to cut the between the fabrics of reality, that it was forged from the un-spaces between realms and then affixed to the realm of the earthwalkers - a dark creation simultaneously existing and not, crafted to fight creatures of the same ilk. It therefore has no problem slicing through Snow White’s outstretched hand before Regina drives it through her heart and into the tree with the golden apples.

Snow White cries, piercing and terrible, a battle cry and death rattle muddling together until they became indistinguishable from each another. She rakes desperately at the sword and at Regina, but it makes no difference. Such a sword was made for this purpose and even if she weren’t so grievously injured, she could not have hoped to win against such a sure hand.

“Go to hell!” Snow White rages instead.

“May you be there to greet me.” Regina says grimly. She twists the sword. Snow White gurgles briefly, then slumps down, dead.

After all, mortal is as mortal is.

Regina releases the sword, falls hard to her knees, and finally lets herself cry.


	14. chapter xii. crowschild

Graham finds her like this, curled in on herself, tears long shed and dried. To one side, the once-Queen Snow, to the other, Emma, both staining the garden with their lives.

“Regina?” He asks, cautiously, quietly, not wanting to intrude on her grief. He approaches slowly, heavily, so that she may rebuke him if necessary.

“The cost was too high.” She rasps.

“Yes.” He agrees, “And we both know Emma would have paid it, no matter how high it was, so long as it was not you.”

He gently pries her from herself, tugs at her until she stumbles to her feet, and tries to coaxes her away from the dead.

“She died.” Regina whispers, as though to say it any louder would make it more true than it already was. She blinks, once, twice, her eyes lose that glaze as they sharpen. She shakes herself from his grip. “Red.” She commands, “Find me Red.”

He does not look at her, choosing to stare ahead, but he can imagine that she wears the face of the court, back straight and head high to match that voice. It is the strongest mask she knows to wear. “That is a name I have not heard in a long time.” He admits, “And not someone I thought I would ever see again.”

Masks are flimsy things, sometimes. Regina collapses inward again, voice crumbling, “Please.” She whispers.

He sighs. “I will try. But Regina,” he warns, lest she hope for something he cannot give, “the Forest’s children do not forgive so quickly, even if it was a lifetime ago.”

“You’d be surprised.” She tells him.

“ _Have you come to return to the Forest?” She will ask him when he finds her. She sits at the boundaries between the lands of mortals and the lands of the fair folk, as though she had been waiting for him._

“ _Only to pass a message.” He replies, “You are needed. Regina asks for you.”_

_To her credit, she twitches only imperceptibly. “Such mortal affairs are not for the Forest to interfere with.” she will say. She says it as though it were a truth, as though it does not tear at her to deny this._

“ _But she is Regina of the Forest, is she not? And are you not Red of the Forest?” He asks, “ Your sister asks for you; will you not answer?”_

_She looks at him, those hunter’s moon eyes unblinking. “Thank you for passing the message, Huntsman.”_

_He flinches at the title. “No longer. Not for many years.” He corrects._

“ _But not for as many years as you were not wolf brother, Graham of the Forest.”_

“ _No.” He must concede._

_She moves to brush past him. “_ _You have been gone a long time, brother. Perhaps you should return home.”_ _She says._

“ _What is a wolf without a pack?” He_ _will_ _ask_ _to her back._

“ _Alone.” She_ _will_ _respond immediately, “But no less a wolf.”_

_And then she is gone, bounding toward the castle, toward Regina._

_Perhaps, perhaps._

\---

“Oh.” Red says when she finds them. “Oh, Regina. I’m so sorry.”

“Red.” Regina says, and there’s none of the emotion in her voice that Red would expect. It comes out harsh, all lines and edges. “Red.” Regina says again, softer this time, “tell me about the waters of life and death.” Her voice is nearly silence on the last word. This is an old memory, from a story her father told her but once. It was not a good story, but this is not a good story either.

Red had expected something, but certainly not that. “No.” She says, “An old legend, even by the fair folk’s standards. But no, Regina, mortal is as mortal is. You can’t just pervert the order of things like that!”

“I’m sorry.” Red tries, “Truly, I am. But you must bear your grief and look to move forward. It’s what Emma would have wanted, I’m sure.”

Regina laughs mirthlessly, “Yes, because the world has always cared about what Emma wanted.”

“No, it didn’t, but we should, shouldn’t we?”

“Emma didn’t want to die. Graham would say that Emma didn’t want to die less than she didn’t want me to die, but she didn’t want to die either. I am going to try, Red.” She says in her voice of ice and steel. “You can help and maybe we’ll all come out of this alive.”

Red appraises her. “You weren’t supposed to fall in love with her.” She finally says.

“I know, I know.” Regina replies. “But I have.”

And Red sighs, “You have never had the sense to listen to me. But what is done is done, I suppose. Let’s see about getting her back.”

“They say that the waters of life and death spring from the fountain of youth and spill from the lion’s mouth,” Red continues, “and that many moons and many suns ago, the fountain’s shapers shared its wealth freely to all who came. It was only when we sought to claim it for ourselves that they hid it away behind the veil of time until it was nothing more than a memory buried in our graves. It is the story of our fall to mortality.”

“Are you sure?” She asks once more. “It could be nothing but a myth and even if it were not, the years are never kind. You could die for nothing.” She says, leaving much unspoken.

“I have to try.” Regina says. “It is the right thing to do.”

Red isn’t sure that going against natural laws that have been in place since lifetimes upon lifetimes upon lifetimes before them is _right,_ perse, but it isn’t her place to say, only to act as she see fits.

“Okay.” She says, “We need a crow. Supposedly, only the crows are smart enough to have always eluded Death’s grasp. And so only they were there when the fountain was more truth than myth. Only they remember where the fountain lies. Or so the stories go.”

“What happens when we get one?” Regina asks.

“I don’t know.” Red says, “I’ll probably threaten it until it tells us what we need to know.”

“So rude!” something above them caws. Regina has long since stopped being surprised by unexpected things talking.

“You’d do well to respect your elders, little wolf!” another voice continues.

“Lest your arrogance be your end!” the last warns.

Red looks up to see three crows, all staring at them. She yelps when she recognizes them and cowed, flattens her ears and tucks her tail, “Elders, what an honor it is to be in your presence.”

Regina looks confused. Red nudges her, not kindly. “Show some respect.” She hisses, “they’re the Elder Crows.”

Regina doesn’t know what that means, but she makes to bow anyway.

“No need-”  
“What is respect-”  
“If given blindly?”

They interrupt each other fluidly; sometimes two or all of them will speak the same line. It sounds like music, but not like the music of the firebird, which had drifted freely into the air and reverberated in the cavity of her chest. This one sinks deeper, into the crevices of her mind left by the Jabberwocky’s intrusion. It could be insidious, how true their words feel.

“You wanted to ask the crows of something-”  
“little wolf. And here we are. So ask-”  
“Or are consequences of your questions too heavy?”

Red remains quiet and unnaturally still. Regina gives her another moment before stepping in front of her to return the Elder Crows’ gazes.

“I will ask.” She says, sharp and clear. “Where do the waters of life and death flow?”

“Far, far away! Where you cannot tread-”  
“For only a crow is smart enough to find the way-”  
“And only a crow is stupid enough to leave their fears behind.”

They chortle at her. It would be mocking, but the Elder Crows have lived too long enough to have ever learned such mortal things.

“And you are too human to do either!” Their last words are said in unison, too loud and with more truth than it actually merits.

For here is the great secret about truths – they are only as true as you believe them to be. This Regina knows, surely as she knows the moon chases the sun.

“Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin! I call upon you!” she shouts into the forest. “I know you can hear me, come out!”

Red and the Elder Crows wince at that name, a name older than it has any right to be. “Regina, don’t-”

“Be careful what names you speak of, dearie.” A voice of oil and honey says, “They have power, you know.”

“Yes.” Regina says, ignoring Red to focus on Rumpelstiltskin. “I know. I remember exactly who you are and I have called you to make a deal regardless.”

“Hmmm, yes.” He says with that infernal laugh of his. “And what will you trade for it?”

“Name your price.” She grits out.

There’s that damn laugh again. “Desperate, aren’t we?”

“Don’t play your games.” She snaps, “No one comes to you unless they are desperate. You know this. Name. Your. Price.”

His eyes glint like the scales on his face. She forces down an impulsive shiver. “It will cost you, to cast this curse.” He says, “And when you pay it, you shall pay it to me.”

He draws from his sleeve a vial, filled with a liquid black as a crow’s shadow. “Do we have a deal?” He asks. Her mouth sets into a grim line as she reaches out. She has seen far darker things and cannot find it in her to be afraid of this.

Red’s snout interrupts her. “Don’t do it, Regina.” She pleads, “Deals with Rumpelstiltskin never end well.”

Regina looks through her, runs a hand through her fur and settles it behind her ears. It falls hard. Red knows then, that she is not enough to convince Regina otherwise and the only person who could has been cold for some time now. “Better a half-life than no life.” Regina murmurs to her before turning back to face Rumpelstiltskin. “Deal. Now what must I do?” She says and takes the vial from him.

“You hold in your hand, hm, shall we call it a Crowskin, for lack of a proper term. One of a kind, you know, dearie. You drink it and,” he punctuates here with a flourish, “poof! One crow, ready to travel to lands of myth!”

“And what will it cost me?” She asks.

“Ah, the Elder Crows were right, you see – it’s not enough to take the form of a crow. You are too human to make the journey. Fears, nasty things, after all. No, you’ll need to shed your human nature as well, for this to work.”

He taps her chest with one finger, right where her heart beats. “This is your price – one heart, of human origin. Yours.”

A collective silence, even the Elder Crows stop their muttering to watch these events unfold.

“Do you think you are enough?” He asks her, “You can take your time answering that. I’m in no hurry and well, neither is your love, really.”

Regina swallows hard. “Red. Please wait here. Guard her.”

“Of course.” Red says. She will not say goodbye. They surely will have an opportunity many years into the future to do so, not here, not now.

“And take care of her, if I cannot.” Regina says, in lieu of a goodbye.

“Well, dearie? I haven’t got all day, you know. Places to be, deals to make, interest to collect on. You know how it is.”

Regina stands straight. “I do this.” She says, “And you promise that Emma will be okay?”

“I promise you,” Rumpelstiltskin says, “That should you make the journey, you will find the waters of life and death that you seek. The rest, I leave to you.”

“Yes.” She finally says, “I agree. Do it.”

Rumpelstiltskin studies her for a moment, “Every bit your mother’s daughter.” he concludes, “You could have been so much more, you know, in another time.”

Regina draws herself up even straighter, “I am Regina of the Forest.” She declares haughtily, “And that is exactly enough.”

“We shall see.” And his hand curls around her heart.

\---

A human heart is a terrible thing. Beautiful, yes, but no less terrible. Red watches in horror as Rumpelstiltskin pulls his hand out of Regina’s chest, her heart in his hand. It glows pinkish red, brighter in some spots, dark and blotchy in others, but it beats strong like Red thought it would.

“Drink, please.” Rumpelstiltskin commands, more to Regina’s heart than to Regina, and she swallows the entire vial without question. When she’s done, she drops the vial in a spasm, letting out a bout of racking coughs.

Red watches this in horror too, as Regina shrinks in on herself. Her skin blackens as she sprouts feathers, a cough becomes a croaking squawk, wings forming as her bones break and shift to accommodate her transformation. She does not often transform, and never into a flying form, and so she can only imagine the sort of pain Regina suffers now, to become a creature of flight.

Rumpelstiltskin turns to the Elder Crows as Regina finishes her transformation. “Have I not presented you with a fine specimen of a crow?” He asks, “Will she not make the journey as one – smart enough to find the way and stupid enough to leave behind her fears?”

The Elder Crows appear to convene amongst themselves, huddling together. The occasional chirrup or indignant squawk occasional peters out. Finally, they spread out again, looking down at Rumpelstiltskin from their seat of power as one.

“You have.”  
“You should not have-”  
“But you have.”

“Crowschild!” They call out to Regina, “Do you wish to travel to the fountain of youth, from which the waters of life and death spring?”

Regina is silent. Rumpelstiltskin sighs, “Answer, please.”

“Yes.” She manages.

“Then go. When night falls-”  
“Corvus rises. He will point the way-”  
“You must follow and never stop.”  
  
“Stopping will be your death. Follow him-”  
“until your wings can beat no more, and then-”  
“keep following him until Corvus sets into the land.”  
  
“There, where the sky and the lands meet to make the horizon, that is where you will find the fountain of youth. Go now- Corvus rises soon!” They finish.

Rumpelstiltskin makes an impatient gesture, “You heard them. Corvus, edge of the world, fountain. Off, off!”

Regina takes off without another word. Rumpelstiltskin bows mockingly to his audience, “And with that, my job here is done. A pleasure to see all of you again. I suspect we shall meet again soon.” And he disappears with a theatrical _pop!_

A silence falls on the forest. The Elder Crows do not move.

“Why did you come?” Red finally asks.

“It has always been the sacred duty-”  
“for the crows to remember such things.”  
“We bear witness to this perhaps-future.”

“Of what?” She presses.

“Of the firebird, freed from its unjust prison-”  
“Of the golden horse and its master and her sword-”  
“Of the tyrant vanquished before we reached the end-”  
  
“Of Death, denied his subject. They will sing songs of them-”  
“and someone must teach the bards the first songs.”  
“That is enough, little wolf. We tire of your questions.”

“Do you think Regina will return?” She hazards anyway.

“Do you think it was Regina who left?” They ask in return.

Red does not have an answer.


	15. chapter xiii. kin

Three days and three nights pass and Red keeps a constant vigil throughout. The Elder Crows wait beside her and they do not speak to her. It is not her story they are here to witness.

The bodies begin to smell and Red must consider burying them. She may be fearsome enough to scare off the forest scavengers, but even she must let Death claim his subjects.

In the end, Regina never returns. It is Rumpelstiltskin who appears once more before them. Red launches herself up to snarl at him.

“Down, child.” He waves a hand to throw her against a tree, pinning her there. No effort on her part budges her the slightest.

“Will you behave if I let you go?” He asks her.

She snaps at him in response.

“Shame.” He sighs. “And I even brought presents.” His cloak produces two flasks that would be empty, were anyone watching simply human. But as it is, all their gazes land upon two flasks, both filled with liquid, almost as clear as the glass. Red must squint to find the waterline and even then she is guessing.

This stops her, stops the Elder Crows. For in one flask is the water of life. In the other, the water of death.

“So I have your attention, it would seem.” Rumpelstiltskin says, pleased. He drops Red unceremoniously.

“What did you do to her?” Red asks in a low growl that signals her intent to tear through his throat, should his answers be unsatisfactory.

“Oh, nothing she didn’t want.” He dismisses, “As it turns out, Regina wanted a way to turn back into a human. Something about not wanting to spend the rest of her life as a crow? I suppose one becomes accustomed to having digits after a lifetime of it.”

He grins at this, “She thought the waters were a fair trade for that. I even threw in transportation to her location of choice and well, it wasn’t here, I suppose.”

“Regina wouldn’t have done that. She would have come back with the waters if she’d found them.” Red insists.

“Foolish little wolf. Do you still think it was-”  
“Regina who left? Tell us, trickster human, to what-”  
“end did you set these events into motion for?” The Elder Crows chime in.

Rumpelstiltskin clutches at his chest in mock hurt, “I’m offended! And to think I came all this way, bearing no ill-will, and the waters of life and death as a gift. He approaches Emma, but Red immediately stands stanch in his way. She won’t let him do whatever twisted things he wants to do – she promised Regina.

Rumpelstiltskin narrows his eyes. “Wolf-girl, you’d do well to get out of my way.”

“We would listen to him, little wolf-”  
“You act not toward the same goals,-”  
“But you may both gain similarly still.”

Red reluctantly steps aside, letting Rumpelstiltskin flick at her snout as he brushes past her. “Good girl.” He says. She suppresses the urge to kill him where he stands. For Emma, she thinks, for Regina. These are the indignities that can be endured – insignificant in the face of her looming grief.

Rumpelstiltskin uncorks the first bottle. It smells of the dark and loamy earth, under which are buried her sisters and her brothers, all returning to the Forest as they should. Of her sisters and her brothers, returned before they had a chance to leave. Of her sisters and her brothers as they breathed their last.

The waters of death – they are not foul, as she would expect, nor do not smell of _otherdangerthreat,_ like the Jabberwocky had. They smell neither _wrong_ nor _right,_ but like they should exist. It is like this is a scent of a memory she never lived, inherited from a forebear she cannot name. It reminds her of autumn.

When Rumpelstiltskin pours it over Emma, it restores her body. Red can see the decay creep away, back into the ground, the grievous wound over her heart knitting itself once more, even her scars from battles before this, recede into skin.

She looks as though she were sleeping, but in a slumber from which she does not wake. None of the worry lines cross her face like this, no weight of destiny bears heavy on her shoulders. Red could even believe she was smiling, if only lightly. Perhaps she is peaceful, wherever she is.

“Wait, wait.” Red says, “Do you think we’re doing the right thing? Bringing her back?” She hesitates, “Is there…is there a happy afterlife for her?”

“You should have thought of that before we arrived here.” Rumpelstiltskin tells her, and he pours the water of life over Emma’s lifeless body.

If the waters of death are the autumn, then the waters of life are the spring. They smell like the sound of the wolf pack hunting, of life in the wake of death, of her sisters and brothers in revelry and in sorrow and every emotion in between, all alive and sparking all at once.

For a moment, nothing happens. Red wonders if the myths were only half-true. It wouldn’t be the first time and certainly not the last time. Then, Emma jolts up with a shuddery gasp.

“Fuck!” She says. The word is strangled, like Emma’s throat had forgotten how to dislodge the words that lingered there and Emma had to drag them out herself. She looks around in a panic, “Where am I? I thought-Queen Snow, and Lily, and Regina-an arrow, Regina’s alive, right? I died, didn’t I? Why-am I-what?”

“Emma, Emma.” Red tries to calm her down, but Emma’s breath still comes out short and panicked.

“I think was dreaming.” She manage to say. “Am I still dreaming?”

“No, but you were.” Rumpelstiltskin says, “And were it not for me, you would have dreamed forever.” Emma wheels around to face him.

“You!”

“Hello again, Emma.” Rumpelstiltskin greets. “You never did get me my ring.”

Red looks between them. “What the fuck is happening?” She finally asks.

\---

“This is all your fault!” Emma accuses, “This entire shitstorm of a fuck-up! You started all of it!”

“I did.” Rumpelstiltskin agrees, “But look at what you got out of it, Emma! A good horse, a good sword, a deed heroic enough that you need never pay for anything else in your life again. Even longer if you can live it and if you loot the castle now before the scavengers crawl out of the woodwork. I see you even found a love of your life!”

“I died!”

“And I brought you back.” He counters. “Really, you should be thanking me. I don’t see you losing anything here, really. Well, except the love of your life.”

“Regina.” Emma says, attention immediately diverted, “Where is she?”

“Ah.” Rumpelstiltskin says, “I think the better question is – why isn’t she here? And to that, I can only answer: she isn’t interested.”

“What?” Emma asks, confusion and disappointment and despair all mixing together on her face, “She wouldn’t.”

“Ehhh” Rumpelstiltskin drags out, “I suppose, technically, the Regina you knew wouldn’t. This one is, ah, shall we say, missing something critical to the entire ‘caring about the love of your life’ deal.”

From his apparently infinite cloak, he pulls out a small mass. It pulses softly in his hand, a beautiful and terrible reddish glow. “Well, also technically, she’s missing something critical to the entire ‘caring about anything ever again’ deal.”

Emma blanches. “That’s...not what I think it is...is it?” She turns to Red, “Please tell me that’s not Regina’s heart in his hand.”

“I can tell you that, but it’d be a lie.” Red admits. Emma looks horrified. “Why would she-her heart! And for what?”

“I don’t know, Emma.” Rumpelstiltskin says, pretending to think “Why would you wield a sword of legend and ride into the once-queen’s seat of power knowing that this would be your destiny? Don’t lie, dearie. I sent you there – I know that the Seer told you. You rode into that castle knowing full well you’d die there and you did it anyway, because in doing so, you’d save her life.”

“Oh.” Emma says. It’s barely a whisper. “But...I didn’t. Her heart.”

“Ah but you did – Regina still lives, does she not? Perhaps a half-life, without her heart, but still she draws breath, still she moves upon this earth.”

Emma looks thoughtful for a moment, then, “You’re here to make a deal.” She says, “That’s why you’ve done all this.”

Rumpelstiltskin giggles, delighted at having been found out and knowing that he will win regardless, “Clever girl. Yes, I’m here to make a deal and to exchange, I have one heart of human origin – Regina’s.”

“Name your price.” Emma says. Rumpelstiltskin gestures to the ring, “You’ve found the Jinn in the ring, yes?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Yes, I can smell the magic on you. It stirs impotently, like a caged animal rattling the bars, waiting for you to make your last wish and settle it. I want your last wish.”

“Why the fu-”

“Ah, no questions, dearie. That’s the deal. You make your last wish, per my instructions, and in exchange, I graciously part with this heart, for you to do with as you see fit.” He shakes the heart in his hand. Both Emma and Red flinch.

“Oh don’t be so squeamish,” He chides, “It’s a surprisingly sturdy heart, this one. I should know; trust me on that.”

“Trust is not the word I would use.” Emma says.

Rumpelstiltskin shrugs, “Use whatever word you’d like to. Do we have a deal?”

Red waits for time to catch up with inevitability. She doesn’t even bother trying to stop Emma. She already knows that she will not be enough to convince Emma otherwise and the only person who could is half-dead and elsewhere.

“Yes. Deal.” Emma says. “Make your damn wish.”

“It’s a simple one, never you fear. I want you to wish the Jinn free.”

“Why would you-”

“No question, remember?” He waggles the heart again. It would seem that it never gets any easier to see.

“Fine. Whatever.” Emma rubs at the ring on her hand. Smoke leaks out of it, pooling onto the ground, wisping free where it can and rolling thunderously where it cannot. In a snap, the smoke coalesces into a humanoid form.

“Hey, Ems.” He says, “You finally gonna make that last wish?”

Rumpelstiltskin cannot stop a hushed whisper from escaping him: “Baelfire.”

The Jinn whips around to see the source of the voice. “Oh no,” he says, “what did you do, Ems?”

“I’m beginning to suspect – exactly what he wanted.” Emma says back grimly.

“Make your wish, Emma.” Rumpelstiltskin commands, not even deigning to look at her. His focus lies singularly on the Jinn. It’s somewhat disorienting to observe.

The Jinn, apparently Baelfire, begs, “Oh no, no, no, no. Ems, Emma, whatever he wants, don’t do it. Please. What do you want? More wishes? I can get you more wishes. Money? I can get you that too. Anything, I’ll get you anything you want, just please don’t make that wish. Emma, Emma, please.”

“I’m sorry.” She says, “But I only want one thing, and he’s got it.”

She takes a deep breath and then, crisply, “Jinn, I wish you were free.”

Emma was expecting something, well, a little more dramatic. All that happens is the band of the ring snaps in two. Then it crumbles to dust. Very little fanfare. A little surprising, considering what they’ve endured.

“Baelfire.” Rumpelstiltskin says again.

“Pa.” Baelfire admits, if only grudgingly.

“Pa?” Emma interrupts. “He’s your dad?”

“This does not concern you.” Rumpelstiltskin snaps. With a wave of his hand, the only evidence that he and his son were ever in the gardens with them is Regina’s heart, lying in the dirt at Snow’s feet. Emma hastens to pick it up and brush the dirt off.

“I don’t want to know.” Emma says.

“Going to have to agree with you there.” Red replies, “Now what?”

They’re both staring at the heart. “Now, we go return this to its owner.”

“How are we going to find her?” Red asks.

“You think hearts are like, I don’t know, sensitive to their owners? Like, it’ll glow twice if she’s near?”

“I...don’t know, but that, uh, doesn’t really sound right.”

Emma shrugs, “I guess we’ll just have to scour the forest until we find her then. How hard could it be? We’ll just follow the trail of burning things. She’s not subtle.”

Red laughs at that, “She’s really not.”

Emma looks up before they leave, “You gonna tell me about your friends, Red? I know they’re watching. They’re too silent to not be. It’s fucking weird.”

“Emma! Those are the Elder Crows. They’re the oldest watchers of history. You can’t just call them fucking weird!”

“Just did.”

“Is this where you get your impertinence, little wolf?”  
“Yes, Emma Swan, we are here to fulfill our sacred duty-”  
“to remember history. The bards will sing of you all,”

“Savior, child of destiny, wielder of the Vorpal Blade, last rider of the golden horse,”  
“Queenslayer, who freed the firebird of its unjust prison and stole from Death itself,”  
“and even you, Wolfschild, defying the Keeper to see these truths to their end.” They caw.

Emma considers their words. “Is this our story?” She asks them, “Is it over?”

They look at her for a moment.

“Yes.” They conclude as one. “This is your story. Destiny has no further use of you. Go. Live what life you can, best you can.”


	16. chapter xiv. confluence

“Ugh.” Emma groans. “When did she get so subtle?”

“Maybe we were the unsubtle ones.” Red muses.

“I don’t recall myself deciding to ram a ship into a tower. Or a dragon into a castle.” Emma mutters.

“We made that decision as a team!”

“No! We didn’t! I was too busy wondering how the hell that was my life! You just took my shock as agreement!”

“Details! Was the dragon your fault though?”

Emma sighs. “Kind of, yeah.” She admits.

“Maybe we’re all unsubtle.” Red amends.

“Tell that to Regina. How has it been a year?”

“Well, Emma, the days pass while the sun and the moon chase each other. They do this enough times and we call that a year.”

“Oh gods, just shut up and help me look. The innkeeper said there were rumors of a bandit living around here.” Emma gripes.

“He said ‘unattached and uncouth harlot of dubious dress and class’, Emma.”

“Yes, and it was a very rude thing to say of Regina, so when we find her, we’ll all go back and punch him in the face for it. A gold coin says he tried to get in her pants and that he totally deserves to lose that last front tooth.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say s-Fuck!” Emma stumbles into a pit trap, which had concealed a net that now hoists her forcible into the air.

“Still think I’m wrong?” Emma grumbles. “Stop laughing at me and help me.”

Red does not stop laughing and Emma has to set to cutting herself down without her aid. “You’re going to catch me, right? You’d better fucking catch me.”

Red does not catch Emma. “How would that even work?” She asks, leaning over Emma’s prone and groaning in pain body, “I’m a wolf!”

“Only sometimes!” Emma accuses.

Red does that shrugging motion, “I was a wolf at that time.”

“Ugh.” Emma says again. She lets Red tug at her hand and she reluctantly gets back up.

“Let’s not do that again. Shit, that hurt.” Emma says, stepping forward, into a tripwire. They both hear it go off and they both reflexively stiffen.

“Fucking godda-” is all Emma manages to get out before the falling log smashes into her.

Fucking goddamnit, she manges to think before she blacks out.

\---

“Fuckkkkkkk” Emma groans as she comes to. She wiggles her fingers and her toes. Her head feels like the time she drank too much because she was trying to convince Mulan she could handle it, but at least nothing seems broken. “Red?” She asks.

Only the forest silence answers her. She pushes herself onto her arms and then hauls herself up. It hurts like hell, but at least she can do it.

“Red?” She asks again, looking around. Red is nowhere to be found.

“Turn around slowly.” A familiar voice demands, “Who are you? What do you want?”

Hands up, Emma turns to face Regina pointing a drawn bow in her face. “My name’s Emma.” She says, “And I came to return something to you.”

\---

“If you would ju-” Emma protests as Regina ties her to a tree. She must grudgingly admit that the knotwork is good. And damn right it should be – she taught Regina this and she actually has opposable thumbs, unlike some assholes who abandon their friends at critical junctures in their quest.

“ _I thought you would want some alone time! How was I supposed to know?” Red will say, later. “I didn’t want to smell it.” She frowns at the mental image._

“ _Oh my gods.” Emma says, mortified._

“ _But look who I found!” Red says hurriedly, for which Emma is grateful. “Regina, I don’t think your horse is afraid of wolves anymore. I don’t know how he didn’t die in the forest but I guess it’s good that he didn’t.”_

“ _Rocinante!” Regina cries happily. Emma guesses that it was worth it, to see that happiness. She’s never telling Red that though, they’d never get that smug look off her face._

_It may be too late for that, she thinks, looking over at Red, who looks too smug for some asshole who abandoned her in the middle of the forest._

“Let me recount what you’ve told me.” Regina says, checking the tautness of the rope. Emma taught her that too, damnit.

“After I escaped from Queen Snow’s death sentence, I met a talking wolf named Red. We traveled together in search of the firebird, which I was looking for so that I could beg Queen Snow for forgiveness. Along the way, we accidentally saved you from a tower while trying to procure a princess, who we found out was actually a dragon when she collapsed the tower you were in. We delivered the princess by way of flying ship which then crashed into a tower, collapsing it as well. For our services, the princess’ mother gave us a golden horse, which we traded for the firebird I wanted. Which, instead of returning to Queen Snow, I released. Then, we both stole the golden horse from the Witch of the Animals, who set her dalmatians upon us. We escaped into the forest, after which we met its Keeper so that we could ask her about your destiny. Speaking of, it was apparently your destiny to stop Queen Snow from, what was it, destroying all the realms as we know them?”

“I mean-”

“But wait, it gets better! The Keeper cursed you so that you could confront the Jabberwocky in your head, I came in after you, and together we freed the Jabberwocky, escaped the curse, and procured the Vorpal Blade. Then, you, riding on top of a horse of power wielding a sword of legend, stormed the castle with the help of a dragon, who collapsed yet another tower, while I wielded a bow of true aim and confronted Queen Snow. Together, we managed to kill her, but then you died and I became a crow so that I could find the fountain of youth and retrieve the waters of life and death to bring you back. But a sorcerer was behind this entire scheme and had tricked us both, sending me away and returning to you with the waters so that he could make a deal. You traded him the last wish from your Jinn, who turned out to be his son, for...my heart.”

She can’t help the face she makes. Emma is inclined to agree.

“Now it’s been a year from that day and you’ve been looking for me ever since to return my heart?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Emma says weakly, “it sounds a little insane.”

Regina looks at her incredulously, “That’s an understatement.”

“Okay, but think about it.” Emma pleads, “Haven’t you felt like something’s missing, this last year? An emptiness that won’t go away, no matter what you do? That your memories are slightly off, like you lived half of them and someone wrote in the other half?”

“Well, now that I think about it...These things you’ve said, a childhood I’ve never told anyone about, feelings I should be having-” Emma holds in a hopeful breath, which she can’t let out in disappointment because Regina now has a knife to her throat, “You sound insane. Who sent you?”

“No one!” Emma insists, “Maybe some talking crows?” Regina’s eyes narrows and maybe she should stop talking because she’s not helping her case.

“Insane.” Regina decides. “The road isn’t far from here. If you cry out when the carriages pass, someone should eventually stop to retrieve you.” She turns to leave.

“Wait, wait!” Emma yells out after her, “I can prove it! In my-” She attempts to move her arm but Regina knotwork has improved substantially since they stole the golden horse. “damnit, did you have to tie me up so tightly? In my belt, there’s a pouch. To my left. That’s got your heart in it- you can see it for yourself.”

Regina looks dubious.

“What kind of a shitty bandit are you?” Emma tries to badger, “You didn’t even bother searching me for valuables.”

“A better one than you – I’m not the one trapped.” She snorts.

It’s an ungraceful and undignified sound, such a small thing to notice, but it reminds Emma so much of _Regina_ that she aches something fierce inside.

I love you, Emma wants to tell Regina. This I know surely as the sun chases the moon and the moon chases the sun. But even if Regina were herself, those words would still be too heavy. They sit on her tongue and when she swallows them back, they stick in her throat and strangle her every breath.

“Please.” She says and it must be something breaking, something hurting, because Regina’s eyes soften, so slightly that it would easily be missed, but Emma doesn’t miss much about Regina.

“Okay.” Regina acquiesces. She runs her hand along Emma’s belt and Emma bites her tongue. “I don’t see it.” Regina says, frowning.

Emma curses herself mentally. “Fuck.” Out loud, too. “I’m sorry, right side, it must be right side.”

Regina looks at her suspiciously, “You trying something here?”

“No! Just, look, I fell into your stupid pit trap and I had to cut myself down and then I fell and then a giant log hit me and then you tied me to a tree! I’m a little disoriented!”

Regina looks wary still, but she indulges in checking the other side of Emma’s belt, where she finds the pouch. Emma breathes a sigh of relief. “Open it.” She says. She feels small, timid, like this exchange is too raw and honest for who they are. “Please be careful.”

“Oh.” Regina breathes as she cradles her heart, marveling at its weight in her hands. It feels _right_ and _hers_ and this close to it, only now can she realize that she has been empty all this time. The truth of Emma’s words catches up to her. “Who were you to me, to have this? To have come all this way?” She asks.

_“I think it’s romantic, what you’re doing.” Red tells her. Emma throws a stick at her. Red yelps and then sticks her tongue out._

_“It’s just the right thing to do.” Emma insists._

_“Yeah, so are a lot of other things we could be doing. But you love her; that’s why you’re doing this.”_

“ _Can we not talk about this?” she grumbles._

_“If it helps, she loved you too. And she’ll still love you when she has her heart back.”_

_Emma is quiet. Red sees too much, sometimes._

“ _Do you,” she hesitates, “Is it True?”_

_Red watches Emma’s face flicker in the fire. “I don’t know.” She admits, “But it’s honest. And that’s enough, I’m sure.”_

“Just friends.” Emma confesses. “But…we could have been something more, I think. If you untie me, we can put that back in and find out.”

Regina’s still looking at her heart. She waves airily. “Drop the pretense. We both know you wormed your way out the moment I cut a rope to get the pouch.

Emma waves a hand, “I didn’t want to ruin any self-confidence you had. They were some very good knots though.” She disentangles herself and holds her hands out. Regina looks reluctant to give up her heart now that she has it in her own hands.

“Hey, do you trust me?” She asks, wrapping her hands around Regina’s. She’s spent so many nights staring at the heart, watching it pulse gently in her hand. It has always felt warm, comforting.

Like home, Emma is starting to realize, Regina’s heart in her hands and Regina’s hands in hers. It beats gently here too.

“You tried to break into my hideaway, failed when you hit not just one, but both traps, and then tried to convince me that this ridiculous story is true.” Regina points out. It sounds weak, even to her.

“That’s not a no.” Emma says, smiling. “But I’ll tell you a secret.” She leans in close, pressing Regina’s heart between their chest. It beats wildly, but no less strongly, no less steadily. Emma’s breath ghosts on Regina’s ear. “With you, Regina, I always know when you’re lying.”

She shoves.

\---

Emma never wants to do that again. Hands belong on chests, not in them, and no argument will ever convince her otherwise. She checks her hands for blood. There isn’t any – magic pretends to be clean like that.

Beside her, Regina’s eyes are glazed and they stare at nothing. Emma waves experimentally in front of her. “Regina? You there?”

In a brief moment of panic, Emma wonders if she’s just fucked this all up. Then Regina blinks, eyes focusing on Emma as she fits herself back together.

“Emma?”

Emma wonders if she survived all the destiny bullshit just to die of a heart attack. Then she thinks that’s a shitty joke to make right now. “Hi. Yes.” She says instead of voicing any of that.

“Emma.” Regina says again, eyebrows furrowing. Emma’s heart sinks. She really needs to stop thinking about hearts.

“Oh. Uh.” Emma stutters, “I can leave, y’know, if you want to get back to your life. I just thought you might want that back, is all. So I brought it. So that you could have it. Back, I mean. Not like, you can have it as a gift or something because it belongs to you so of course you should have it-”

“Emma.” Regina says again, chiding. She grips Emma’s vest and thumbs at the leather. Emma hears herself inhale sharply. “Please stop rambling.”

“Yes. I can do that. Stop rambling, I mean. Do you want me to leave? I can do that too. If you want.”

Regina grips at the vest more tightly. “It’s been a year, Emma.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Really though, it’s your own fault for being so hard to find. I can’t believe you didn’t remember anything because I remember telling you that only a shitty thief gets stories told about them so I guess we’re both going to be shitty thieves because talking crows are going to-”

“Emma. What I meant was, it’s been a year.”

“Yeah. Yeah it has.” Emma says quietly, taking Regina, now whole again, in.

“And,” Regina continues, “while I had the dubious luxury of not remembering, you did.”

“Uh huh.” Emma says, unsure of where this is going.

“So, I can’t imagine, having gone through all we did, spending a year with just the memory of our last conversation, unable to do this-”

“What are we talking ab-”

Regina kisses her.

Oh, fuck, Emma thinks.

“You should stay,” Regina says breathily when they part, “if you want to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Emma says, equally breathily, “I really do.”

“Okay.” Regina says, and kisses her again.

Emma doesn’t know if it’s True, but if the Elder Crows are to be believed, they’ll never have to find out. It’s honest. It’s enough.


	17. epilogue

They’re going to fuck, right here on the forest floor, some godawful sentient ficus is going to bear unfortunate witness, and then visiting the in-laws is going to be fucking awkward. Is this how it works? The Forests adopts Regina, Regina keeps Emma, and Emma becomes an in-law of the Forest?

The important thing in that deranged mess of a thought is that they’re going to fuck, right here on the forest floor. It will be kind of disgusting and they will probably regret it later but Regina’s _here_ and really, nothing else matters.

Regina abruptly breaks with a startled look on her face and Emma lets out an embarrassing and needy whine. “The Summerlands.” Regina says.

What.

“What?” She asks.

“What happened to the Summerlands?” Regina repeats, “After Queen Snow’s death.”

“Uh.” Emma says. This was not expected.

“Please tell me you took the time to set an interim governing body in place while they sorted out the laws of succession.”

“Uh. I mean, I could, if you wanted to believe it.”

Regina’s head falls back with a thud. “Emma.” She exhales and that’s really not how Emma wanted to hear her name.

“It’s not so bad.” She tries.

“Please clarify.”

“Three neighboring regions are vying to conquer the territory since Snow White bore no children and also may have murdered most of her successors in a completely unrelated string of events.”

“How is that not so bad?” Regina asks incredulously.

“We saved all the realms from imminent destruction! A lot of things, most things I’d say, are better than imminent destruction!” Emma protests.

“Emma, we were supposed to make things better. This isn’t better.” Regina says. “We have to fix it.”

Emma looks at Regina, can see the tensing of her shoulders, how she slots a mask into place, so neatly that anyone else wouldn’t notice the seam. All so that she may do necessary and righteous things, even if such things sit heavy on her shoulders and fit her not at all.

That’s a lie – Regina would return to the Summerlands and claim the empty throne with ease. She would have the strength of legend behind her and the strength of presence in front of her and naysayers would be forced to shrink into the shadows in her wake. She would rule, fairly and wisely, and the Summerlands would return to their once-prosperity, until the poisons of Queen Snow’s action finally washed away. She would rule like she was born for such purpose.

And she’d be unhappy all the while. Emma is sure of this path’s conclusion and that if she does not act now, there will be no stopping Regina from seeing it to the end.

“Hey.” Emma says, “I have an idea.”

The words come out smooth and practiced, as if she’s said it far too many times to be healthy.

\---

“What.” Mulan says when they find her in DunBroch under the employ of Queen Merida.

“I think it’s a fantastic idea!” Queen Merida says. “I’d join you, but you know kingdoms – take one look away and they devolve into anarchy and civil war.”

Mulan pinches the bridge of her nose, closes her eyes, and attempts to tamp down her- is it frustration? Bewilderment? Something along those lines. “Emma.” She begins slowly, willing herself to breathe, “When I told you not to get involved with magic, I did not mean ‘Emma, get involved with magic, use it to combat other forces of magic while wielding a sword of legend, and then overthrow a monarchy’.”

Emma gives her a flippant shrug, “These things happen.”

Mulan pinches harder. Maybe if she keeps her eyes closed, this will all go away when she opens them again. Queen Merida slaps her on the arm and she reluctantly opens her eyes anyway. “Well?” Merida demands, “Aren’t you going to get ready?”

“You would have me give up my post? Who will captain your guard?” Mulan asks with weak formality.

“Oh don’t be daft. You and I both know this isn’t where you belong. You belong out there! Riding around, adventuring as a bonafide champion of the people. This was just temporary, while you got your head back on straight.”

“Yeah, Mulan!” Emma says, swinging an arm over Mulan’s shoulder. Mulan grunts but otherwise makes no move to dislodge her, “Think about it, stealing from the rich, giving to the poor, helping the people in times of imminent societal and economic collapse. All good shit!”

Mulan cannot believe Emma knows the phrase ‘imminent societal and economic collapse’. She sighs, long and suffering, “Let me get Khan.”

Emma frowns. “Man, that horse hates me.”

“ _Emma._ ”

\---

Later, they will idle in the Forest waiting for Lady Marian to meet them. Regina has yet to return her bow. To pass the time, Emma calls out errant targets and Regina shoots at them. Mulan watches her with growing displeasure before finally-

“Stop that. Who taught you to shoot? How are you even hitting those targets?”

“A talking wolf. A magic bow.” Regina answers honestly. Mulan grits her teeth and forces herself to let it pass.

“I don’t want to know.” She says, “But it did a poor job.”

“She.” Regina corrects as Mulan motions for the bow. Regina hands it over with no small amount of amusement.

“I don’t want to know.” Mulan repeats. She tugs an arrow free from Regina’s quiver, “But I am going to teach you how to shoot properly.”

Lady Marian comes upon them, Mulan shooting a tree that should be too far away to hit because Emma is egging her on and Mulan just wants Emma to let her teach Regina in peace.

“Regina, Emma.” She greets, “I see you have a new traveling companion.”

“Did you replace me? I’m insulted!” a voice quips from behind Lady Marian.

“Red!” Regina exclaims happily.

“Me!” Red happily exclaims back, and lets Regina come up to hug her.

Mulan stands there and grimaces, “I said I didn’t want to know.”

Lady Marian is watching Mulan, “Is that my bow?”

Mulan glances down at the bow in her hand, sure in her grip, “I suppose so. I was teaching Regina how to shoot since she apparently learned from a talking wolf.” She offers it back to Lady Marian, who takes it with a thoughtful look on her face.

“Oh that’s me!” Red says.

“This is Mulan.” Emma finally introduces, “We traveled together before I met you guys. And now we’re off to steal from pompous assholes for the good of the people. Mulan hates us all but she’s putting up with us anyway because she’s a-”

Emma can’t hold back a snicker at this, “Queen Merida called her a ‘bonafide champion of the people’.” Behind her, Regina covers a laugh with her hand and Red’s snout has taken on a truly gleeful and wolfish smile.

(The Forest is an unrepentant bunch of gossips.)

“I do not hate you.” Mulan corrects, “I think you make poor decisions which we must all endeavor to correct lest they lead to our untimely demises by completely avoidable circumstances.” She and Lady Marian are still staring at one another, Marian in curiosity and Mulan in poorly disguised suspicion.

“You shoot well.” Lady Marian compliments.

“It is a fine bow.” Mulan returns, “Crafted by a masterful hand; it would be difficult to shoot poorly with it.” She spares a glare at Regina.

“You would be surprised.” Lady Marian says evenly before turning to Red, “I presume you will not be returning with me, Little Red?”

Red grins, “You go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”

Lady Marian lets out a knowing chuckle, “You and I have vastly different ideas of ‘later’.” She looks to the rest of them. “But perhaps we shall meet again sooner than we expect.” she says before disappearing into the forest once more.

Red looks too happy, “Oh, Mulan, I’m so glad to have finally met you, it’s so rare to see a-” like Emma, Red can’t hold in her laughter and she rolls on the floor, tittering, “bonafide champion of the people.”

Mulan cannot say the same and so she does not. “I don’t understand why everyone keeps saying that or why it’s so funny.” She says instead.

Regina and Emma start laughing too and Mulan gives up trying to figure it out. How is this her life now, she wonders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, friends! I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> If you're wondering why I didn't finish my other fics, this is why. I will be circling back to them soon as I can.
> 
> As it turns out, I'm horrible with all forms of communication. But if you leave a comment I'll see it and endeavor to respond.


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